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 Maldives and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 oboe 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 Chris & Cosey to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
Hot Snakes,
Jacques Brel,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
DJ Style,
the Fania All-Stars,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Niagra,
Grauzone,
Mo-Dettes,
Monolake,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ornette Coleman,
Barry Ungar,
Au Pairs,
Bootsy Collins,
Underground Resistance,
the Bar-Kays,
Ronan,
New York Dolls,
R.M.O.,
Magma,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Nas,
Tres Demented,
The Real Kids,
The Slits,
Bobby Womack,
Public Enemy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Heaven 17,
Idris Muhammad,
The Saints,
Warsaw,
U.S. Maple,
The Walker Brothers,
Mary Jane Girls,
F. McDonald,
Wasted Youth,
Moebius,
Big Daddy Kane,
New Age Steppers,
Mars,
Electric Prunes,
John Foxx,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lindisfarne,
Country Teasers,
Sparks,
The Seeds,
Kas Product,
The Evens,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Toasters,
Delta 5,
Fear,
Erasure,
Parry Music,
Boogie Down Productions,
Subhumans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.