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 Gabon and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 chamberlin 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 The American Breed to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Joey Negro. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Stiv Bators,
Zapp,
Blake Baxter,
Mad Mike,
Marshall Jefferson,
Harmonia,
Suburban Knight,
Chris Corsano,
Wally Richardson,
Flipper,
The Monks,
Symarip,
Brass Construction,
Rekid,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Godley & Creme,
Joyce Sims,
Chris & Cosey,
Bobby Womack,
Quadrant,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gong,
Cameo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pussy Galore,
Mantronix,
JFA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rosa Yemen,
Morten Harket,
the Swans,
Max Romeo,
David McCallum,
Donald Byrd,
Camberwell Now,
KRS-One,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The American Breed,
Black Sheep,
Tubeway Army,
The Last Poets,
Q and Not U,
Mr. Review,
Surgeon,
Ultra Naté,
Traffic Nightmare,
The J.B.'s,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Crooked Eye,
Barrington Levy,
Arab on Radar,
John Cale,
Janne Schatter,
Marc Almond,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sun Ra,
Soft Machine,
The Fortunes,
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.