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 Mauritania and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 Trojans to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Blossom Toes,
the Soft Cell,
Fela Kuti,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joe Finger,
Panda Bear,
Minor Threat,
Sight & Sound,
Q65,
Neu!,
Slick Rick,
Harry Pussy,
FM Einheit,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The American Breed,
UT,
Judy Mowatt,
The Invisible,
Procol Harum,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Half Japanese,
New Age Steppers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Leonard Cohen,
Buzzcocks,
The Raincoats,
Nils Olav,
X-101,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Moleskins,
Mad Mike,
The Seeds,
Slave,
Metal Thangz,
Tres Demented,
The Saints,
The Pretty Things,
Derrick May,
Godley & Creme,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mission of Burma,
8 Eyed Spy,
Delta 5,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Television Personalities,
The Cure,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Stooges,
Fear,
Funkadelic,
Bobby Sherman,
Fatback Band,
Sparks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rapeman,
Wally Richardson,
The Gories,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.