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 Tuvalu and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 the Human League to the grime 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Trumans Water,
Black Bananas,
Byron Stingily,
The Move,
Patti Smith,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Brick,
Ken Boothe,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Man Parrish,
Duran Duran,
Radio Birdman,
Pierre Henry,
Motorama,
Schoolly D,
Ronan,
Idris Muhammad,
Cheater Slicks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lucky Dragons,
Quantec,
Soul II Soul,
Bobby Byrd,
The Grass Roots,
Rotary Connection,
Robert Görl,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Monks,
Big Daddy Kane,
MDC,
The Remains,
This Heat,
Oneida,
Nik Kershaw,
Whodini,
Black Flag,
Marine Girls,
T.S.O.L.,
Peter & Gordon,
Tubeway Army,
John Coltrane,
The Trojans,
Nirvana,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Stetsasonic,
The Last Poets,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Searchers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Suicide,
ABBA,
Aaron Thompson,
Don Cherry,
Carl Craig,
Mars,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.