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 Yemen and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Robert Hood to the crunk 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 Bauhaus. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Derrick May,
Bobby Womack,
Youth Brigade,
The Dirtbombs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Stetsasonic,
The Stooges,
Joey Negro,
Marc Almond,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Television Personalities,
Mad Mike,
Desert Stars,
Mandrill,
Duran Duran,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lyres,
One Last Wish,
Eric Copeland,
Sister Nancy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pole,
Icehouse,
The Gories,
Big Daddy Kane,
Peter & Gordon,
The Motions,
Fad Gadget,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Clear Light,
Lee Hazlewood,
Roger Hodgson,
Lou Christie,
Harmonia,
Aloha Tigers,
Tears for Fears,
Slick Rick,
Cecil Taylor,
Loose Ends,
Man Parrish,
Eric B and Rakim,
Skriet,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Todd Terry,
the Bar-Kays,
Excepter,
The Dead C,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jandek,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Johnny Osbourne,
DJ Sneak,
Accadde A,
Gabor Szabo,
Eve St. Jones,
Parry Music,
Silicon Teens,
Hashim,
Stereo Dub,
Zero Boys,
Barbara Tucker,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.