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 Madagascar and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 The Fortunes to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Sandy B,
Moby Grape,
The Last Poets,
Barclay James Harvest,
Drive Like Jehu,
Oneida,
The Sound,
Wasted Youth,
the Germs,
Country Teasers,
Eric Copeland,
Sixth Finger,
The Moody Blues,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Public Enemy,
Swell Maps,
The Neon Judgement,
Yusef Lateef,
F. McDonald,
Erasure,
Lalo Schifrin,
Pussy Galore,
Theoretical Girls,
Los Fastidios,
Arab on Radar,
Davy DMX,
Brass Construction,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Soft Machine,
Sun Ra,
The Five Americans,
The Smiths,
Soul II Soul,
Subhumans,
Fugazi,
The J.B.'s,
Colin Newman,
Little Man,
Pagans,
Metal Thangz,
Sonny Sharrock,
UT,
Isaac Hayes,
Ohio Players,
Kayak,
Clear Light,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Niagra,
Mark Hollis,
Scan 7,
Letta Mbulu,
The Durutti Column,
The Smoke,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Cowsills,
Stetsasonic,
Soul Sonic Force,
X-102,
Darondo,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Remains,
Byron Stingily,
The Associates, The Associates, The Associates, The Associates.
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.