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 Cambodia and from New York.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Young Marble Giants to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pussy Galore,
Alphaville,
Eden Ahbez,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sandy B,
the Slits,
Ohio Players,
Bluetip,
The Martian,
Ken Boothe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jeff Lynne,
Severed Heads,
The American Breed,
Funky Four + One,
Barclay James Harvest,
Prince Buster,
Groovy Waters,
Cymande,
The Leaves,
Lee Hazlewood,
Mr. Review,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Morten Harket,
Scientists,
Bill Wells,
Moby Grape,
The Sound,
R.M.O.,
The Human League,
Kas Product,
Parry Music,
Echospace,
Rites of Spring,
DJ Style,
Clear Light,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Connie Case,
Minor Threat,
Johnny Clarke,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Swell Maps,
John Coltrane,
Q65,
Second Layer,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Bar-Kays,
The Pop Group,
UT,
The Flesh Eaters,
MDC,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Maleditus Sound,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Moody Blues,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.