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 Comoros and from Lagos.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Fela Kuti to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Andrew Hill,
Sonny Sharrock,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Thompson Twins,
The Neon Judgement,
Easy Going,
The Invisible,
Y Pants,
Smog,
the Sonics,
KRS-One,
The Grass Roots,
Panda Bear,
Inner City,
The Fortunes,
The Happenings,
Minny Pops,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sexual Harrassment,
Qualms,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Absolute Body Control,
Radio Birdman,
Average White Band,
Amazonics,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lakeside,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Steve Hackett,
These Immortal Souls,
Simply Red,
Technova,
Aural Exciters,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pussy Galore,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Make Up,
DJ Sneak,
Joensuu 1685,
Freddie Wadling,
The Gap Band,
Ohio Players,
Sparks,
Spoonie Gee,
Television Personalities,
Alice Coltrane,
Hoover,
Royal Trux,
Fugazi,
Connie Case,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Fifty Foot Hose,
B.T. Express,
Blancmange,
Theoretical Girls,
The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites.
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.