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 Canada and from Delhi.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Freddie Wadling to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sällskapet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
June Days,
Skaos,
K-Klass,
Yusef Lateef,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lalann,
Nils Olav,
Intrusion,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Cramps,
Lucky Dragons,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Parry Music,
Kerrie Biddell,
Peter and Kerry,
The Sonics,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eden Ahbez,
Zero Boys,
Brick,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brand Nubian,
Connie Case,
The Wake,
Carl Craig,
Mary Jane Girls,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fall,
Marine Girls,
Shoche,
Popol Vuh,
Hot Snakes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Excepter,
Tres Demented,
Minnie Riperton,
Con Funk Shun,
Eric B and Rakim,
Moebius,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Remains,
The Gap Band,
Bush Tetras,
Gang Starr,
Goldenarms,
Pole,
The Fire Engines,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Trojans,
Soft Cell,
Bang On A Can,
Drexciya,
The Blackbyrds,
Make Up,
Suicide,
John Lydon,
Agent Orange,
Main Source,
The Gories,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Motorama,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.