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 Nauru and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Fortunes to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy Collins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MC5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
The Monks,
Ultra Naté,
Supertramp,
Dorothy Ashby,
Minnie Riperton,
Derrick May,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Yazoo,
Bill Wells,
Pantytec,
Jacob Miller,
Boogie Down Productions,
This Heat,
The Count Five,
The Dirtbombs,
Babytalk,
Amazonics,
Arcadia,
Ornette Coleman,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cameo,
Bronski Beat,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Brothers Johnson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Circle Jerks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Negative Approach,
Pere Ubu,
Skaos,
MDC,
Lou Christie,
Bad Manners,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
U.S. Maple,
Alton Ellis,
ABBA,
Banda Bassotti,
Cal Tjader,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lalo Schifrin,
Don Cherry,
Scion,
Lakeside,
X-102,
Con Funk Shun,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kenny Larkin,
Cymande,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Fortunes,
Whodini,
Television Personalities,
T. Rex,
Gang Gang Dance,
Excepter,
Ituana,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.