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 Libya and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Modern Lovers to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brand Nubian,
Easy Going,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Faraquet,
Sonic Youth,
Vladislav Delay,
Khruangbin,
Rites of Spring,
The Move,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gong,
Quando Quango,
Talk Talk,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
a-ha,
The Human League,
Main Source,
Soul II Soul,
H. Thieme,
Con Funk Shun,
Yusef Lateef,
Soulsonic Force,
Derrick May,
CMW,
Fear,
The Smoke,
Icehouse,
Youth Brigade,
The Star Department,
Tommy Roe,
The Motions,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Harry Pussy,
Jeff Mills,
Niagra,
Adolescents,
Pere Ubu,
Warsaw,
F. McDonald,
The J.B.'s,
Sugar Minott,
Hardrive,
Pussy Galore,
Jacques Brel,
Swell Maps,
ABC,
Jacob Miller,
Stereo Dub,
Peter & Gordon,
Lalann,
The Fuzztones,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Radio Birdman,
Piero Umiliani,
Faust,
John Holt,
Slick Rick,
Motorama,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Radiopuhelimet,
Terry Callier,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.