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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Paris.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Columbus.
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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Doobie Brothers to the grunge 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 Soul II Soul. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Clarke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Joey Negro,
Khruangbin,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Slits,
La Düsseldorf,
Erasure,
Crispy Ambulance,
Dead Boys,
Depeche Mode,
This Heat,
Audionom,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sparks,
Leonard Cohen,
Eric Copeland,
Jimmy McGriff,
Funkadelic,
Spandau Ballet,
Bush Tetras,
Loose Ends,
Mary Jane Girls,
John Lydon,
Shuggie Otis,
The Tremeloes,
Boogie Down Productions,
Infiniti,
Sixth Finger,
The Modern Lovers,
Bang On A Can,
Hoover,
Sun Ra,
In Retrospect,
Tres Demented,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Matthew Halsall,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Sonics,
Gang Starr,
Con Funk Shun,
Kenny Larkin,
Masters at Work,
Clear Light,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Faust,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pantytec,
Jerry's Kids,
The United States of America,
Aaron Thompson,
the Slits,
Kayak,
Sugar Minott,
Barrington Levy,
Juan Atkins,
Tubeway Army,
the Germs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wire,
Arthur Verocai,
Cheater Slicks,
Scientists,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.