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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 synthesizer 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 Swans to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
Minor Threat,
Jimmy McGriff,
Thompson Twins,
The Durutti Column,
Sexual Harrassment,
Moby Grape,
The Smoke,
John Foxx,
Kayak,
Young Marble Giants,
Ten City,
The Alarm Clocks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lightning Bolt,
Masters at Work,
Sugar Minott,
The Pretty Things,
Icehouse,
The Seeds,
Blake Baxter,
Quantec,
Bobby Womack,
Electric Light Orchestra,
June Days,
Tropical Tobacco,
David Bowie,
Easy Going,
Bill Wells,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Matthew Bourne,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Organ,
Derrick May,
Sällskapet,
Prince Buster,
The Evens,
Reagan Youth,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Metal Thangz,
Excepter,
Deepchord,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rosa Yemen,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sam Rivers,
Little Man,
Animal Collective,
Hashim,
Scientists,
Charles Mingus,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dark Day,
Procol Harum,
The Modern Lovers,
Subhumans,
John Coltrane,
Shoche,
Slick Rick,
Clear Light,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.