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 Djibouti and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the sitar 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 Drexciya to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
X-102,
Frankie Knuckles,
Niagra,
Theoretical Girls,
E-Dancer,
Derrick Morgan,
Circle Jerks,
The Walker Brothers,
Stiv Bators,
Ronnie Foster,
The Blackbyrds,
Stetsasonic,
Rites of Spring,
Second Layer,
Slick Rick,
Matthew Halsall,
Audionom,
Shoche,
Scott Walker,
Lindisfarne,
Jeru the Damaja,
Youth Brigade,
The Fortunes,
Avey Tare,
The Mummies,
The Zeros,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Laurel Aitken,
Crime,
Minnie Riperton,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
World's Most,
Big Daddy Kane,
Flamin' Groovies,
EPMD,
The Electric Prunes,
Vainqueur,
Althea and Donna,
Cluster,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Boogie Down Productions,
Anthony Braxton,
Morten Harket,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Neon Judgement,
Ossler,
Pierre Henry,
Cybotron,
Rod Modell,
Absolute Body Control,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kayak,
Barbara Tucker,
David Axelrod,
The Vogues,
Aloha Tigers,
Carl Craig,
Colin Newman,
Pagans,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.