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 South Sudan and from Beijing.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
Pere Ubu,
Jeff Lynne,
Crooked Eye,
The Alarm Clocks,
Masters at Work,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Mojo Men,
Gabor Szabo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Blancmange,
Cheater Slicks,
The Monks,
Y Pants,
Bronski Beat,
Crash Course in Science,
Amazonics,
Eric Copeland,
La Düsseldorf,
Symarip,
Gang of Four,
Swell Maps,
The Fortunes,
The Zeros,
Drexciya,
Subhumans,
Neu!,
Interpol,
Hot Snakes,
Alice Coltrane,
Glambeats Corp.,
Monolake,
The Slackers,
DJ Style,
The Stooges,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Warren Ellis,
Vladislav Delay,
Kayak,
Q and Not U,
The Searchers,
Soft Machine,
Marvin Gaye,
The Fall,
Rekid,
X-101,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ludus,
Funky Four + One,
Wally Richardson,
John Coltrane,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Chris & Cosey,
DNA,
Lakeside,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Oneida,
Aswad,
The Blues Magoos,
Index,
A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio.
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.