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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the techno 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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Desert Stars,
Fatback Band,
Al Stewart,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Alarm Clocks,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Dirtbombs,
Aswad,
Tomorrow,
Robert Hood,
Funky Four + One,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Marvin Gaye,
Derrick Morgan,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Flesh Eaters,
Malaria!,
Roxy Music,
Barclay James Harvest,
UT,
Susan Cadogan,
Essential Logic,
Silicon Teens,
Au Pairs,
Pulsallama,
Marmalade,
Deakin,
Eurythmics,
Nik Kershaw,
T.S.O.L.,
Graham Central Station,
Sun City Girls,
R.M.O.,
The Barracudas,
The Smoke,
Nils Olav,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Grey Daturas,
Robert Wyatt,
Albert Ayler,
Henry Cow,
Prince Buster,
The Mummies,
Suicide,
The Mojo Men,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lindisfarne,
Eddi Front,
Rapeman,
Brass Construction,
DJ Style,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Monks,
The Blackbyrds,
D'Angelo,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.