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 Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 Tehran and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Q65 to the crunk 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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Section 25 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blackbyrds,
The Tremeloes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ludus,
T.S.O.L.,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Archie Shepp,
Kayak,
Barry Ungar,
Angry Samoans,
Glambeats Corp.,
Brass Construction,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bizarre Inc.,
Supertramp,
K-Klass,
Simply Red,
Hoover,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Camberwell Now,
Rapeman,
Chris Corsano,
Mr. Review,
Shuggie Otis,
Magazine,
Soft Cell,
Delta 5,
Moebius,
The Modern Lovers,
Electric Prunes,
Marine Girls,
The Skatalites,
Alice Coltrane,
The Monks,
Prince Buster,
Don Cherry,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joe Finger,
Symarip,
Henry Cow,
The Cowsills,
Stereo Dub,
Technova,
KRS-One,
Mo-Dettes,
Camouflage,
Visage,
Dark Day,
Parry Music,
Gang Gang Dance,
Zero Boys,
Jawbox,
Tommy Roe,
AZ,
The Wake,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Deakin,
Sound Behaviour,
The Misunderstood,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Man Parrish,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.