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 Mozambique and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 harpsichord 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 Funkadelic to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
These Immortal Souls,
New York Dolls,
Stiv Bators,
Popol Vuh,
Sister Nancy,
Eric Copeland,
Kenny Larkin,
Joy Division,
Procol Harum,
The Angels of Light,
New Order,
The Mojo Men,
Fluxion,
The Doors,
Erasure,
Stereo Dub,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mantronix,
The Toasters,
the Human League,
Bobby Womack,
U.S. Maple,
Prince Buster,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Glenn Branca,
Metal Thangz,
The Blues Magoos,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bobby Sherman,
Charles Mingus,
The Dave Clark Five,
Robert Hood,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Skaos,
Swans,
Judy Mowatt,
It's A Beautiful Day,
OOIOO,
Donald Byrd,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Red Krayola,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ohio Players,
Babytalk,
DJ Sneak,
The Beau Brummels,
Ken Boothe,
The Fugs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kool Moe Dee,
Smog,
Mandrill,
The Barracudas,
Gang Gang Dance,
Soulsonic Force,
The Offenders,
Organ,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.