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 Chile and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 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 Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience to the rap 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 The Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Mark Hollis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q and Not U 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet 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 chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Organ,
Nick Fraelich,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Morten Harket,
Jeff Mills,
Liliput,
Con Funk Shun,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Metal Thangz,
Stetsasonic,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Matthew Bourne,
Bronski Beat,
Joe Finger,
AZ,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Patti Smith,
Altered Images,
Suburban Knight,
Gang Gang Dance,
The J.B.'s,
Minor Threat,
Audionom,
Mary Jane Girls,
Nico,
The Motions,
The Grass Roots,
Siglo XX,
Lightning Bolt,
The Fortunes,
Funkadelic,
Scrapy,
Minnie Riperton,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Hashim,
Buzzcocks,
EPMD,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fat Boys,
FM Einheit,
Little Man,
Cal Tjader,
The Sonics,
Icehouse,
Magma,
Drexciya,
ABC,
Bush Tetras,
Ultimate Spinach,
Half Japanese,
The Blackbyrds,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Barry Ungar,
Blancmange,
Neu!,
Brand Nubian,
Mad Mike,
Ronnie Foster,
Archie Shepp,
Minutemen,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.