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 Algeria and from Philadelphia.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Wasted Youth to the rap 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 Joey Negro. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Althea and Donna,
Flamin' Groovies,
Nico,
Scion,
Pylon,
Loose Ends,
Alison Limerick,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gang Green,
Eli Mardock,
Eurythmics,
The Slits,
Au Pairs,
Matthew Bourne,
Rufus Thomas,
Q65,
Ornette Coleman,
Laurel Aitken,
Eric Copeland,
Brick,
The Tremeloes,
The Raincoats,
Cameo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ronan,
Khruangbin,
Lyres,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Trojans,
Howard Jones,
The Cramps,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Slick Rick,
kango's stein massive,
The Birthday Party,
Carl Craig,
Adolescents,
Mission of Burma,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Grey Daturas,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dennis Brown,
Alton Ellis,
Electric Prunes,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
the Sonics,
Sexual Harrassment,
Yellowson,
Jeff Mills,
Nirvana,
Toni Rubio,
Neu!,
Rotary Connection,
Ohio Players,
Country Teasers,
Excepter,
The Walker Brothers,
Bootsy Collins,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Susan Cadogan,
Technova, Technova, Technova, Technova.
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.