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 Mauritania and from Taipei.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Sexual Harrassment to the rap 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Shoche,
Sugar Minott,
Bush Tetras,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Yaz,
Carl Craig,
Marmalade,
Interpol,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Minutemen,
Lower 48,
The Tremeloes,
Quando Quango,
Kerrie Biddell,
Isaac Hayes,
Tomorrow,
The Saints,
Rosa Yemen,
Guru Guru,
Ituana,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Black Pus,
The Happenings,
Gong,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Leaves,
Dave Gahan,
Gabor Szabo,
The Slackers,
Harmonia,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rapeman,
K-Klass,
The Victims,
The Divine Comedy,
La Düsseldorf,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dead Boys,
The American Breed,
Rufus Thomas,
Lucky Dragons,
Terry Callier,
Agent Orange,
Brass Construction,
Stereo Dub,
Man Parrish,
U.S. Maple,
Y Pants,
Fela Kuti,
Subhumans,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nico,
Soul II Soul,
Main Source,
the Fania All-Stars,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.