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 Finland and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 rhodes 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 Fatback Band to the techno 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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
Royal Trux,
Alton Ellis,
The J.B.'s,
PIL,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
China Crisis,
Saccharine Trust,
In Retrospect,
Anthony Braxton,
The Gladiators,
Roxette,
Ultimate Spinach,
Erasure,
Warsaw,
James White and The Blacks,
The Last Poets,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Unrelated Segments,
Ponytail,
Amon Düül II,
Newcleus,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sound Behaviour,
Gabor Szabo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jeff Mills,
ABC,
The Mummies,
Model 500,
the Bar-Kays,
Davy DMX,
Wire,
Rites of Spring,
Piero Umiliani,
Surgeon,
Pole,
Sandy B,
Mission of Burma,
Eden Ahbez,
Faraquet,
Ludus,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jerry's Kids,
Cameo,
The Red Krayola,
Graham Central Station,
Franke,
Morten Harket,
Toni Rubio,
Dorothy Ashby,
New York Dolls,
Charles Mingus,
Nils Olav,
A Certain Ratio,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Associates,
Fela Kuti,
Masters at Work,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.