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 Venezuela and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manchester.
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 marimba 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 David Axelrod to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
Alphaville,
Tommy Roe,
Gil Scott Heron,
Maleditus Sound,
Stetsasonic,
Mantronix,
The Names,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
New York Dolls,
Slave,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rakim,
The Vogues,
Pantaleimon,
OOIOO,
Don Cherry,
the Slits,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Doors,
Newcleus,
the Association,
Pierre Henry,
the Swans,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nation of Ulysses,
Avey Tare,
The Index,
The Residents,
T.S.O.L.,
Graham Central Station,
Isaac Hayes,
Groovy Waters,
The Fall,
John Lydon,
Oblivians,
Rotary Connection,
Monolake,
The Dirtbombs,
Wasted Youth,
Clear Light,
Animal Collective,
The Remains,
The Toasters,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fad Gadget,
Faust,
Theoretical Girls,
China Crisis,
The Black Dice,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Godley & Creme,
Sixth Finger,
The Gories,
Underground Resistance,
Fatback Band,
Sex Pistols,
the Soft Cell,
Joyce Sims,
Robert Hood,
The Cramps,
Los Fastidios,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.