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 Hungary and from Accra.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 organ 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 Marshall Jefferson to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Panda Bear,
Malaria!,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
World's Most,
Underground Resistance,
The Index,
The Young Rascals,
Junior Murvin,
This Heat,
Radio Birdman,
Warsaw,
Rakim,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Human League,
The Seeds,
Aloha Tigers,
The Red Krayola,
The Birthday Party,
Hardrive,
Fugazi,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Smoke,
Wire,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Brand Nubian,
Funky Four + One,
Monolake,
Moby Grape,
Carl Craig,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bluetip,
China Crisis,
Boz Scaggs,
Quantec,
Skaos,
Bootsy Collins,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Can,
the Sonics,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
B.T. Express,
Bad Manners,
Vainqueur,
Das Ding,
John Holt,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Blossom Toes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Saccharine Trust,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Soul II Soul,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Mummies,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Dirtbombs,
Skriet,
Albert Ayler,
Gabor Szabo,
Connie Case,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Magazine,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.