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 Nigeria and from Philadelphia.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Calgary.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Moleskins to the grunge 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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q65 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Tears for Fears,
Soft Machine,
Bush Tetras,
Radio Birdman,
Reuben Wilson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Talk Talk,
X-102,
Masters at Work,
Andrew Hill,
Mo-Dettes,
Lou Christie,
Amon Düül,
Barrington Levy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lyres,
The Zeros,
L. Decosne,
Ituana,
Y Pants,
Symarip,
Alton Ellis,
Franke,
Royal Trux,
Basic Channel,
The Last Poets,
Dawn Penn,
ABC,
Wolf Eyes,
Groovy Waters,
Second Layer,
The Cowsills,
R.M.O.,
Lucky Dragons,
Los Fastidios,
Laurel Aitken,
Drexciya,
Joensuu 1685,
The Detroit Cobras,
Banda Bassotti,
James White and The Blacks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
DJ Style,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Fania All-Stars,
Judy Mowatt,
Alice Coltrane,
Boz Scaggs,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Spandau Ballet,
Khruangbin,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sixth Finger,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Germs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Motions,
Moby Grape,
Trumans Water,
The Busters,
Wasted Youth,
Prince Buster,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.