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 Liberia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 snare 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 Prince Buster to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
the Bar-Kays,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Electric Prunes,
Tears for Fears,
Lalo Schifrin,
Grauzone,
The Busters,
F. McDonald,
Chris & Cosey,
The Skatalites,
Grey Daturas,
Pantytec,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Cybotron,
Joey Negro,
Fela Kuti,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Cal Tjader,
Index,
Aloha Tigers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Human League,
Nik Kershaw,
Scratch Acid,
the Swans,
Sonny Sharrock,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Todd Rundgren,
Junior Murvin,
Althea and Donna,
Accadde A,
Nirvana,
Gerry Rafferty,
Warsaw,
Roxette,
Buzzcocks,
Ultravox,
The Misunderstood,
the Association,
Babytalk,
Pantaleimon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Mojo Men,
Agitation Free,
Swell Maps,
David Axelrod,
Andrew Hill,
The Last Poets,
Freddie Wadling,
Urselle,
Fad Gadget,
Pet Shop Boys,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Throbbing Gristle,
Organ,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Residents,
AZ,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.