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 Syria and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Jeff Mills to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ronan. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter & Gordon,
Hot Snakes,
David Bowie,
Gichy Dan,
Echospace,
The Toasters,
The Associates,
Junior Murvin,
The Fire Engines,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobby Womack,
K-Klass,
Barry Ungar,
Crispy Ambulance,
Monks,
the Human League,
The Leaves,
Alice Coltrane,
Stetsasonic,
Ultra Naté,
Zero Boys,
Glenn Branca,
Desert Stars,
Little Man,
Pylon,
Big Daddy Kane,
Absolute Body Control,
Quando Quango,
Michelle Simonal,
cv313,
Faraquet,
Robert Görl,
Panda Bear,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Sisters of Mercy,
ABBA,
Sonny Sharrock,
John Foxx,
The Motions,
Anakelly,
The Happenings,
The Smiths,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bootsy Collins,
Lower 48,
Icehouse,
Arthur Verocai,
Kool Moe Dee,
Yellowson,
Goldenarms,
Alphaville,
The Smoke,
Josef K,
The Kinks,
Tubeway Army,
James White and The Blacks,
Susan Cadogan,
In Retrospect,
Kurtis Blow,
The Buckinghams,
Newcleus,
Amon Düül,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.