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 Sudan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Scott Walker to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Nik Kershaw,
Sex Pistols,
Sandy B,
Aural Exciters,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Boredoms,
Aswad,
Marvin Gaye,
B.T. Express,
The Birthday Party,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Amazonics,
Technova,
Janne Schatter,
Radio Birdman,
The Leaves,
Laurel Aitken,
Faraquet,
Harmonia,
Shoche,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Dave Gahan,
Peter & Gordon,
Marc Almond,
Japan,
Lalann,
Maleditus Sound,
Ohio Players,
The Human League,
Delta 5,
The Stooges,
8 Eyed Spy,
Deepchord,
Bobby Womack,
MC5,
Eric B and Rakim,
Juan Atkins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Al Stewart,
The Remains,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Quadrant,
The Residents,
Jacob Miller,
The Tremeloes,
Second Layer,
Porter Ricks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Electric Prunes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Peter and Kerry,
Symarip,
Rites of Spring,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sugar Minott,
Albert Ayler,
The Trojans,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.