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 Costa Rica and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Black Sheep to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shuggie Otis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Sällskapet,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Zero Boys,
Graham Central Station,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Reuben Wilson,
The Smoke,
Siglo XX,
Gabor Szabo,
Tim Buckley,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marmalade,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Electric Prunes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bauhaus,
Whodini,
The Gories,
Bang On A Can,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Country Teasers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Young Marble Giants,
Cameo,
Susan Cadogan,
The Zeros,
The Human League,
Robert Hood,
Gichy Dan,
Isaac Hayes,
Hoover,
The Slackers,
The Mojo Men,
Cybotron,
Japan,
Rekid,
Q and Not U,
Scientists,
Lyres,
Wally Richardson,
Flash Fearless,
Deepchord,
Brothers Johnson,
Bluetip,
David Bowie,
Anthony Braxton,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Infiniti,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gang Starr,
Wings,
The Buckinghams,
FM Einheit,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Saccharine Trust,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Brand Nubian,
Howard Jones,
Negative Approach,
The Real Kids,
The Associates, The Associates, The Associates, The Associates.
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.