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 Morocco and from Calgary.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse to the dance 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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Bob Dylan,
Tomorrow,
Radio Birdman,
MDC,
Interpol,
The Dead C,
Roy Ayers,
Echospace,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gong,
The Doors,
Kas Product,
Los Fastidios,
Livin' Joy,
Cameo,
Kerrie Biddell,
ABBA,
The Blackbyrds,
Idris Muhammad,
Popol Vuh,
The Invisible,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Radiohead,
Monolake,
Mark Hollis,
Q65,
Circle Jerks,
Funkadelic,
Mr. Review,
Throbbing Gristle,
X-102,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Guru Guru,
Lower 48,
Buzzcocks,
Minor Threat,
Excepter,
Sexual Harrassment,
Goldenarms,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Skriet,
Judy Mowatt,
Moss Icon,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Funky Four + One,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Morten Harket,
Shoche,
New Age Steppers,
Connie Case,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Franke,
Crime,
Lou Reed,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Juan Atkins,
Pagans,
The Busters,
Eric Dolphy,
Nas,
Prince Buster,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.