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 Liechtenstein and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 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 Graham Central Station to the dance 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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Chocolate Watch Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Metal Thangz,
Lucky Dragons,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Move,
Curtis Mayfield,
Roger Hodgson,
Al Stewart,
Index,
JFA,
Barrington Levy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rapeman,
Chrome,
The Martian,
Michelle Simonal,
The Gun Club,
The Selecter,
Derrick May,
H. Thieme,
Pole,
The Tremeloes,
Panda Bear,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gong,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fugazi,
Young Marble Giants,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Kayak,
The Raincoats,
The Monks,
Steve Hackett,
Roxette,
Arthur Verocai,
Make Up,
The Fire Engines,
K-Klass,
The Moody Blues,
Jawbox,
Kenny Larkin,
Anakelly,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cal Tjader,
The Cure,
Basic Channel,
Sam Rivers,
Au Pairs,
Los Fastidios,
Radio Birdman,
Accadde A,
48th St. Collective,
Andrew Hill,
Guru Guru,
EPMD,
the Normal,
Gang Green,
Moby Grape,
Easy Going,
X-101, X-101, X-101, X-101.
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.