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 Venezuela 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Rites of Spring to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jimmy McGriff,
Buzzcocks,
Tim Buckley,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Chris & Cosey,
Severed Heads,
Porter Ricks,
Procol Harum,
Suicide,
Gabor Szabo,
Lyres,
10cc,
Deakin,
Symarip,
Angry Samoans,
Radiohead,
The Slackers,
The Blackbyrds,
Alton Ellis,
The Velvet Underground,
Agent Orange,
Harmonia,
Terry Callier,
Henry Cow,
Junior Murvin,
the Normal,
The Grass Roots,
Peter & Gordon,
Amon Düül II,
Stereo Dub,
The Gladiators,
Ossler,
Essential Logic,
Gang Starr,
The Gap Band,
Donny Hathaway,
Sight & Sound,
James White and The Blacks,
R.M.O.,
The Remains,
Delon & Dalcan,
Don Cherry,
Kerri Chandler,
F. McDonald,
Neu!,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gichy Dan,
These Immortal Souls,
Supertramp,
John Holt,
Isaac Hayes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Metal Thangz,
The Music Machine,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Jacob Miller,
Eric Dolphy,
Alphaville,
The Pop Group,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Intrusion,
The Offenders,
Saccharine Trust,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.