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 Kuwait and from Manchester.
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 Johannesburg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Ultra Naté to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 the Normal. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The United States of America,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eli Mardock,
Siglo XX,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Robert Hood,
Mars,
The Happenings,
Gang Starr,
Q and Not U,
Kool Moe Dee,
Warsaw,
Gil Scott Heron,
Boredoms,
The New Christs,
Marc Almond,
Pagans,
Symarip,
Bobby Sherman,
Excepter,
Qualms,
Arab on Radar,
Nation of Ulysses,
Funkadelic,
The Skatalites,
Derrick Morgan,
The Doors,
KRS-One,
Fear,
The Index,
The Monks,
Skarface,
The Misunderstood,
Groovy Waters,
Bronski Beat,
Sun City Girls,
ABBA,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Iggy Pop,
The American Breed,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Robert Wyatt,
Mary Jane Girls,
Nas,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Little Man,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Saints,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Infiniti,
Jawbox,
John Foxx,
Patti Smith,
Clear Light,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jeff Mills,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Gap Band,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Golliwogs,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.