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 Russia and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Seoul.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Tears for Fears to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
John Coltrane,
Interpol,
Hasil Adkins,
Infiniti,
Gang Green,
Fad Gadget,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rites of Spring,
The Black Dice,
Cal Tjader,
Don Cherry,
Sun City Girls,
Eddi Front,
Index,
Deadbeat,
Brass Construction,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Average White Band,
Smog,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Quantec,
Morten Harket,
Spandau Ballet,
The Durutti Column,
Sister Nancy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Skarface,
The Neon Judgement,
UT,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Happenings,
Ludus,
Gabor Szabo,
Gang Starr,
Mo-Dettes,
Wolf Eyes,
the Bar-Kays,
Gregory Isaacs,
Danielle Patucci,
Japan,
Idris Muhammad,
The Victims,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
CMW,
In Retrospect,
Grauzone,
Yaz,
The Busters,
Schoolly D,
Brothers Johnson,
Aural Exciters,
Skaos,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Move,
Pulsallama,
Con Funk Shun,
Lightning Bolt,
Dawn Penn,
Gang Gang Dance,
Slave,
the Swans,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.