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 Uzbekistan and from Accra.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the grunge 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 The Remains. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sly & The Family Stone,
Can,
the Sonics,
Brand Nubian,
The Count Five,
Second Layer,
Dark Day,
Au Pairs,
Ituana,
Suicide,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dawn Penn,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fat Boys,
The Evens,
The Busters,
Grauzone,
Marmalade,
Zero Boys,
Jeff Lynne,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Harry Pussy,
Livin' Joy,
Scion,
Von Mondo,
Magma,
Alison Limerick,
ABBA,
Piero Umiliani,
Qualms,
Kayak,
Kerri Chandler,
Skarface,
These Immortal Souls,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mandrill,
Chris & Cosey,
Tommy Roe,
Johnny Clarke,
Gabor Szabo,
Gerry Rafferty,
Michelle Simonal,
Lee Hazlewood,
David Axelrod,
Wasted Youth,
Con Funk Shun,
Crispy Ambulance,
F. McDonald,
Model 500,
John Coltrane,
Gang Starr,
Charles Mingus,
Make Up,
Easy Going,
Arab on Radar,
Black Moon,
Aswad,
Groovy Waters,
MDC,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Fifty Foot Hose,
T. Rex,
The Standells,
The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five.
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.