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 Ireland and from Calgary.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bologna.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 United States of America to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Michelle Simonal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
the Fania All-Stars,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Curtis Mayfield,
Grey Daturas,
Ultravox,
Rakim,
Inner City,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Audionom,
The Walker Brothers,
Bizarre Inc.,
Altered Images,
Gang of Four,
Matthew Bourne,
Colin Newman,
Metal Thangz,
Bauhaus,
Big Daddy Kane,
Todd Rundgren,
Bobby Womack,
The Tremeloes,
Ultra Naté,
Harmonia,
David McCallum,
Second Layer,
Lebanon Hanover,
Piero Umiliani,
Cal Tjader,
Rufus Thomas,
Jerry's Kids,
A Certain Ratio,
The Divine Comedy,
Trumans Water,
The Martian,
Minny Pops,
The Human League,
Television Personalities,
ABBA,
Marc Almond,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Duran Duran,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Evens,
Slick Rick,
Howard Jones,
Amazonics,
Harry Pussy,
The Barracudas,
Bobby Byrd,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lungfish,
Ken Boothe,
The American Breed,
The Moody Blues,
The J.B.'s,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rosa Yemen,
Tres Demented,
John Coltrane,
Archie Shepp,
F. McDonald,
Sun Ra,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock 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.