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 Sweden and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Reuben Wilson to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
The Five Americans,
Reuben Wilson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Real Kids,
Audionom,
Tears for Fears,
Silicon Teens,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pierre Henry,
Stetsasonic,
Tubeway Army,
The Remains,
The Last Poets,
James White and The Blacks,
The Motions,
Glenn Branca,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Barracudas,
Mission of Burma,
Whodini,
Neu!,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Pop Group,
Wasted Youth,
The Monks,
The Slits,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pet Shop Boys,
Max Romeo,
Bob Dylan,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Litter,
Black Moon,
Camberwell Now,
Girls At Our Best!,
Nico,
The Cowsills,
Big Daddy Kane,
David Axelrod,
Ponytail,
Ronan,
Rakim,
Steve Hackett,
John Foxx,
This Heat,
Monolake,
Jimmy McGriff,
Q and Not U,
Rod Modell,
F. McDonald,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Human League,
Severed Heads,
U.S. Maple,
Bizarre Inc.,
Magazine,
the Bar-Kays,
Franke,
Jeff Lynne,
Wally Richardson,
Avey Tare,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.