Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Benin and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Con Funk Shun to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All The Divine Comedy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Steve Hackett,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Man Eating Sloth,
Junior Murvin,
Blossom Toes,
Donald Byrd,
X-101,
Los Fastidios,
DNA,
Ohio Players,
The Electric Prunes,
Blancmange,
Shuggie Otis,
The Beau Brummels,
The Slackers,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Count Five,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cecil Taylor,
Agent Orange,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Blake Baxter,
Brand Nubian,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Peter & Gordon,
Section 25,
Marine Girls,
Aural Exciters,
Icehouse,
Excepter,
The Fall,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Association,
Newcleus,
Gichy Dan,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pulsallama,
Motorama,
Quantec,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bill Near,
John Lydon,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Litter,
Funky Four + One,
Rekid,
Neu!,
Charles Mingus,
Rotary Connection,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Theoretical Girls,
LL Cool J,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Hot Snakes,
Second Layer,
Ludus,
The Residents,
Sugar Minott,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.