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 Norway and from Copenhagen.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 DNA to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Anakelly,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Babytalk,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Monolake,
Joe Smooth,
E-Dancer,
Urselle,
Erasure,
Soft Cell,
Bill Near,
Neil Young,
The Searchers,
Alphaville,
Easy Going,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ultimate Spinach,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Robert Görl,
Gabor Szabo,
Eden Ahbez,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bad Manners,
The Beau Brummels,
Bush Tetras,
Goldenarms,
Tommy Roe,
The Grass Roots,
The Stooges,
David Bowie,
Black Flag,
James White and The Blacks,
Slick Rick,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Andrew Hill,
Oneida,
Cybotron,
Pole,
The Gories,
The Detroit Cobras,
Oblivians,
The Last Poets,
Soulsonic Force,
Reuben Wilson,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sun Ra,
Supertramp,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dawn Penn,
Traffic Nightmare,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Slits,
The Walker Brothers,
La Düsseldorf,
The Modern Lovers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Deakin,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap.
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.