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 Algeria and from Tokyo.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 808 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 June of 44 to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
The Blues Magoos,
Spoonie Gee,
Anakelly,
The J.B.'s,
Flash Fearless,
Big Daddy Kane,
Graham Central Station,
Blossom Toes,
David Axelrod,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Metal Thangz,
The Busters,
Mark Hollis,
Rufus Thomas,
Adolescents,
Electric Prunes,
Lower 48,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gerry Rafferty,
Main Source,
Public Enemy,
Byron Stingily,
Severed Heads,
Gang Starr,
Jacob Miller,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Amon Düül,
Smog,
Ludus,
Kaleidoscope,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Fortunes,
Ornette Coleman,
Altered Images,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Schoolly D,
Eden Ahbez,
Scott Walker,
Gil Scott Heron,
Brass Construction,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Stetsasonic,
Moby Grape,
The Leaves,
Dual Sessions,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Arab on Radar,
Skarface,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Association,
48th St. Collective,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Audionom,
Livin' Joy,
Cymande,
Kool Moe Dee,
Laurel Aitken,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kas Product, Kas Product, Kas Product, Kas Product.
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.