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 Fiji and from Shanghai.
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 Mumbai and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 John Coltrane to the rap 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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Harry Pussy,
Pussy Galore,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tubeway Army,
Morten Harket,
Nik Kershaw,
Easy Going,
Minnie Riperton,
Derrick Morgan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Dawn Penn,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pet Shop Boys,
Index,
The Modern Lovers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
LL Cool J,
Crooked Eye,
Camberwell Now,
Ronnie Foster,
Babytalk,
The Saints,
Deepchord,
Ice-T,
The Blues Magoos,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Underground Resistance,
Robert Görl,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Five Americans,
Kaleidoscope,
Soft Cell,
Moss Icon,
David Bowie,
Todd Rundgren,
Eric B and Rakim,
Don Cherry,
Judy Mowatt,
Soulsonic Force,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Rites of Spring,
Moebius,
Joe Finger,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Flipper,
Das Ding,
X-Ray Spex,
Bobby Womack,
Skriet,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Busters,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sound Behaviour,
The Stooges,
Kurtis Blow,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bobbi Humphrey,
U.S. Maple,
The Grass Roots,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.