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 Mauritania and from Paris.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez 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 Roxy Music to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacob Miller record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Can,
Ultravox,
Mr. Review,
Niagra,
Sound Behaviour,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rekid,
The Motions,
The Dirtbombs,
James White and The Blacks,
Letta Mbulu,
Man Parrish,
E-Dancer,
Todd Rundgren,
Chrome,
The Index,
Average White Band,
Lightning Bolt,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Quantec,
48th St. Collective,
Stockholm Monsters,
Magma,
The Cure,
Supertramp,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Black Dice,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fuzztones,
Sex Pistols,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bluetip,
The Associates,
Guru Guru,
Bobby Sherman,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Inner City,
Brass Construction,
Ponytail,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Last Poets,
Joey Negro,
Anakelly,
Camberwell Now,
Crispy Ambulance,
The J.B.'s,
The Smoke,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Connie Case,
Dead Boys,
D'Angelo,
Gang Starr,
Tim Buckley,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Roxy Music,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The United States of America,
Altered Images,
Scion,
Jeru the Damaja,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.