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 Cameroon and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 organ 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 Modern Lovers to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Osbourne,
The Durutti Column,
Young Marble Giants,
Eddi Front,
Kurtis Blow,
Hoover,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Big Daddy Kane,
Roxy Music,
Dennis Brown,
48th St. Collective,
Bill Near,
Electric Prunes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Gun Club,
Barrington Levy,
T. Rex,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Normal,
Banda Bassotti,
Scratch Acid,
Charles Mingus,
LL Cool J,
The Misunderstood,
Terry Callier,
Chris & Cosey,
Sonny Sharrock,
Throbbing Gristle,
Yellowson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Kinks,
Arab on Radar,
Colin Newman,
Curtis Mayfield,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Boz Scaggs,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
A Certain Ratio,
Rod Modell,
The Skatalites,
The Vogues,
Lebanon Hanover,
This Heat,
The Saints,
Grauzone,
Crime,
Vladislav Delay,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
In Retrospect,
Lou Christie,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Patti Smith,
Freddie Wadling,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Idris Muhammad,
The Fire Engines,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Delon & Dalcan,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fela Kuti,
Joyce Sims,
Junior Murvin,
the Soft Cell,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.