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 Philippines and from Stockholm.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 June Days to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Carl Craig,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Doobie Brothers,
Interpol,
D'Angelo,
Gang Starr,
Eric B and Rakim,
K-Klass,
The Searchers,
Model 500,
Metal Thangz,
Todd Terry,
The Dave Clark Five,
Quando Quango,
The Victims,
Bronski Beat,
Masters at Work,
The Trojans,
Nico,
Livin' Joy,
L. Decosne,
China Crisis,
The Fire Engines,
Jeff Mills,
DJ Sneak,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Albert Ayler,
Scrapy,
the Germs,
Organ,
Loose Ends,
Tres Demented,
The Blackbyrds,
Connie Case,
Anthony Braxton,
Smog,
James White and The Blacks,
Kayak,
Reuben Wilson,
Excepter,
Jerry's Kids,
Rekid,
Sandy B,
Joy Division,
Public Enemy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Echospace,
Soul Sonic Force,
Skarface,
The Count Five,
Slave,
the Bar-Kays,
The Techniques,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Scratch Acid,
Von Mondo,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Mummies,
Sonic Youth,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
FM Einheit,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.