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 Serbia and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Delhi.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the sitar 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 Tubeway Army to the dance 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every MDC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Marshall Jefferson,
Y Pants,
E-Dancer,
Skaos,
Suicide,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The United States of America,
Clear Light,
Freddie Wadling,
Jeff Mills,
Glenn Branca,
The Tremeloes,
Eric Dolphy,
Rosa Yemen,
The Saints,
The Searchers,
The Kinks,
Bronski Beat,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Martian,
Malaria!,
Joy Division,
Barry Ungar,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Young Rascals,
Mission of Burma,
Sight & Sound,
Big Daddy Kane,
Second Layer,
The Slits,
AZ,
Crispy Ambulance,
Boredoms,
Kenny Larkin,
Brass Construction,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Alton Ellis,
Sandy B,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Black Sheep,
The Velvet Underground,
The Techniques,
The Moleskins,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Monolake,
Eve St. Jones,
Marc Almond,
Negative Approach,
Brothers Johnson,
Heaven 17,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Thompson Twins,
Prince Buster,
The Selecter,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.