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 Turkey and from Taipei.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 David Bowie to the rap 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Archie Shepp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Sparks,
Lyres,
Thompson Twins,
Lucky Dragons,
The Real Kids,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Amon Düül II,
Laurel Aitken,
The Moleskins,
The Divine Comedy,
Gong,
Andrew Hill,
Jacob Miller,
Scrapy,
Minor Threat,
Boz Scaggs,
Suburban Knight,
Steve Hackett,
Nick Fraelich,
DJ Style,
The Monochrome Set,
Procol Harum,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Funkadelic,
Rod Modell,
Alphaville,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cluster,
Pet Shop Boys,
Section 25,
The Music Machine,
Newcleus,
Sex Pistols,
Dawn Penn,
Tropical Tobacco,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Roger Hodgson,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sarah Menescal,
Terry Callier,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Organ,
Gichy Dan,
Malaria!,
The Saints,
Theoretical Girls,
Hardrive,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scientists,
The Techniques,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Yellowson,
Glambeats Corp.,
Moby Grape,
Scion,
Jacques Brel,
Faraquet,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.