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 Slovenia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 guitar 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 Tropical Tobacco to the grunge 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 The Litter. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor 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 an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
F. McDonald,
Marmalade,
Cybotron,
The Monks,
Duran Duran,
Cluster,
Connie Case,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Vladislav Delay,
The Star Department,
Grandmaster Flash,
Joyce Sims,
Inner City,
Lucky Dragons,
Mission of Burma,
Darondo,
Pulsallama,
Funky Four + One,
Icehouse,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sam Rivers,
Audionom,
Ice-T,
The Beau Brummels,
Silicon Teens,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Flash Fearless,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Tres Demented,
The Durutti Column,
JFA,
Eric B and Rakim,
Quando Quango,
Gang Starr,
Shoche,
Donald Byrd,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rosa Yemen,
Godley & Creme,
Mandrill,
The Young Rascals,
The Skatalites,
Stereo Dub,
The Electric Prunes,
Subhumans,
Soft Machine,
E-Dancer,
The Cowsills,
Chris & Cosey,
June of 44,
Joey Negro,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Blackbyrds,
Avey Tare,
Archie Shepp,
MDC,
Jawbox,
Visage,
Fela Kuti,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.