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 Slovenia and from Seoul.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Minor Threat. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Khruangbin,
Brand Nubian,
Man Eating Sloth,
MC5,
Derrick May,
Rhythm & Sound,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bob Dylan,
Kayak,
Pet Shop Boys,
Curtis Mayfield,
Quando Quango,
Todd Terry,
David Bowie,
T. Rex,
Inner City,
Jandek,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Aaron Thompson,
Sister Nancy,
Colin Newman,
Schoolly D,
This Heat,
Glenn Branca,
Royal Trux,
Darondo,
the Human League,
the Normal,
Bauhaus,
The Dead C,
Fatback Band,
Magazine,
cv313,
Amazonics,
Supertramp,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mantronix,
Sun City Girls,
Tubeway Army,
Wolf Eyes,
Young Marble Giants,
Robert Hood,
Essential Logic,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Neon Judgement,
These Immortal Souls,
MDC,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sound Behaviour,
New Age Steppers,
Model 500,
The Cramps,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Theoretical Girls,
Mad Mike,
Sandy B,
Bill Near,
Lalann,
Groovy Waters,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.