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 Tunisia and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Blossom Toes to the punk 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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
The Barracudas,
The Remains,
Neil Young,
Nick Fraelich,
John Cale,
The American Breed,
The Gladiators,
Joensuu 1685,
The Human League,
Fela Kuti,
Brass Construction,
Crime,
CMW,
48th St. Collective,
Kerri Chandler,
Jacques Brel,
Yusef Lateef,
Zero Boys,
Bobby Womack,
The Smiths,
Zapp,
Idris Muhammad,
Royal Trux,
Althea and Donna,
Rapeman,
Morten Harket,
Loose Ends,
Sparks,
Con Funk Shun,
The Sound,
The Dead C,
Junior Murvin,
a-ha,
Cybotron,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Crooked Eye,
Marc Almond,
Gichy Dan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Country Teasers,
Sam Rivers,
Absolute Body Control,
B.T. Express,
Ohio Players,
Accadde A,
Robert Wyatt,
Q and Not U,
Suburban Knight,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Shoche,
Sound Behaviour,
Boogie Down Productions,
Pantytec,
Vladislav Delay,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eurythmics,
Sun City Girls,
Sexual Harrassment,
Heaven 17,
Chris Corsano,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.