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 Greece and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Copenhagen.
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 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Duran Duran to the electroclash 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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Rod Modell,
Anthony Braxton,
Ultravox,
Amazonics,
Desert Stars,
Wings,
Hashim,
Duran Duran,
Big Daddy Kane,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nico,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Roxy Music,
Clear Light,
Agent Orange,
Zapp,
Kaleidoscope,
Unwound,
Rapeman,
Peter and Kerry,
The Red Krayola,
MC5,
Jeru the Damaja,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Human League,
Harry Pussy,
Darondo,
Visage,
Los Fastidios,
Brand Nubian,
Tommy Roe,
Wire,
Intrusion,
X-101,
The Fall,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Magma,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Buzzcocks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Oblivians,
Throbbing Gristle,
Stiv Bators,
Stereo Dub,
Whodini,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pere Ubu,
The Human League,
DJ Style,
Malaria!,
Talk Talk,
Barrington Levy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sällskapet,
La Düsseldorf,
The Sound,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.