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 Antigua and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Frankie Knuckles to the punk 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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Buzzcocks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
8 Eyed Spy,
Soft Machine,
Pierre Henry,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Red Krayola,
Isaac Hayes,
Nas,
The Moody Blues,
Simply Red,
The New Christs,
La Düsseldorf,
Marc Almond,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Alison Limerick,
Negative Approach,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The American Breed,
Schoolly D,
Gerry Rafferty,
Visage,
Masters at Work,
Drexciya,
The Mojo Men,
Roxy Music,
Eric Dolphy,
The Fall,
The Dirtbombs,
Jesper Dahlback,
Nils Olav,
Con Funk Shun,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ponytail,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Smoke,
the Association,
Khruangbin,
The Seeds,
Adolescents,
The Gap Band,
The Real Kids,
Robert Görl,
Soul II Soul,
Ludus,
Blancmange,
Arcadia,
Ornette Coleman,
Eve St. Jones,
U.S. Maple,
Malaria!,
The Flesh Eaters,
New York Dolls,
Von Mondo,
John Lydon,
H. Thieme,
Boogie Down Productions,
Barbara Tucker,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.