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 Germany and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Milan.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Wally Richardson to the rap 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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Flipper,
Zapp,
The Cowsills,
Wolf Eyes,
Boz Scaggs,
DJ Style,
X-101,
Excepter,
kango's stein massive,
The Star Department,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Roy Ayers,
T. Rex,
Make Up,
Youth Brigade,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Babytalk,
Nirvana,
Model 500,
World's Most,
Goldenarms,
Scion,
Icehouse,
Marshall Jefferson,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Altered Images,
Talk Talk,
The Trojans,
The Barracudas,
Country Teasers,
David Bowie,
The Five Americans,
Sight & Sound,
Silicon Teens,
The Real Kids,
The Beau Brummels,
Maurizio,
Black Bananas,
Scratch Acid,
Todd Rundgren,
Theoretical Girls,
the Human League,
Magma,
The Detroit Cobras,
Khruangbin,
Ponytail,
Interpol,
The Pretty Things,
Don Cherry,
48th St. Collective,
New York Dolls,
Rod Modell,
Fear,
Flash Fearless,
Anthony Braxton,
Shoche,
The Saints,
Can,
Janne Schatter,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.