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 Paraguay and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 Eric B and Rakim to the jazz 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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mark Hollis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Delon & Dalcan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Mars,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Blancmange,
The Mummies,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cameo,
Brand Nubian,
Jacques Brel,
Yusef Lateef,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Peter and Kerry,
Royal Trux,
Mo-Dettes,
ABC,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Danielle Patucci,
Glenn Branca,
Derrick Morgan,
Yaz,
David McCallum,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Martian,
Grauzone,
Crime,
Thompson Twins,
Suicide,
Thee Headcoats,
Con Funk Shun,
The Last Poets,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bill Wells,
Public Enemy,
Intrusion,
Moby Grape,
Blossom Toes,
Eric Dolphy,
Alice Coltrane,
AZ,
Leonard Cohen,
The Barracudas,
Goldenarms,
Unwound,
Tom Boy,
Colin Newman,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Robert Hood,
Todd Rundgren,
Suburban Knight,
Pulsallama,
Gang of Four,
EPMD,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Infiniti,
Lou Reed,
Franke,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.