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 Singapore and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the electroclash 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 David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Stetsasonic,
The Count Five,
Sandy B,
Massinfluence,
The Grass Roots,
Intrusion,
Franke,
Nirvana,
ABBA,
Barbara Tucker,
Jeff Lynne,
Sugar Minott,
Eric Dolphy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Robert Hood,
L. Decosne,
Scott Walker,
Carl Craig,
The Electric Prunes,
Slick Rick,
Zapp,
Stockholm Monsters,
Adolescents,
Sun Ra,
Sound Behaviour,
Von Mondo,
Funky Four + One,
Matthew Bourne,
Dead Boys,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
10cc,
the Fania All-Stars,
Don Cherry,
Goldenarms,
Charles Mingus,
Tim Buckley,
Roxy Music,
Rakim,
EPMD,
Byron Stingily,
Albert Ayler,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Index,
Motorama,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Juan Atkins,
Lakeside,
Pierre Henry,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pulsallama,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Alarm Clocks,
Oblivians,
Whodini,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
K-Klass,
a-ha,
The Kinks,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.