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 Sudan and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 808 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 Susan Cadogan to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a In Retrospect record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Cluster,
Magazine,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cameo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kas Product,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fluxion,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Roy Ayers,
Loose Ends,
Danielle Patucci,
New Order,
Liliput,
Royal Trux,
Brand Nubian,
Alice Coltrane,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Technova,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Crash Course in Science,
the Sonics,
The Fugs,
Yazoo,
Godley & Creme,
Young Marble Giants,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Happenings,
The Dead C,
The Red Krayola,
Groovy Waters,
Don Cherry,
Outsiders,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Aural Exciters,
the Human League,
The Seeds,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
New Age Steppers,
E-Dancer,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Deadbeat,
Prince Buster,
Crispian St. Peters,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ohio Players,
Babytalk,
10cc,
Hoover,
The Victims,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lindisfarne,
Juan Atkins,
Harpers Bizarre,
Massinfluence,
Vainqueur,
Sixth Finger,
Henry Cow,
Eli Mardock,
The Pretty Things,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.