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 Bhutan and from Johannesburg.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Colin Newman 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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a E-Dancer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Symarip,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Model 500,
The Selecter,
Kas Product,
Echospace,
Index,
Rekid,
Terry Callier,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jeru the Damaja,
Thee Headcoats,
Stetsasonic,
Moss Icon,
The Cramps,
Monolake,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Visage,
Theoretical Girls,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Moleskins,
Minutemen,
Black Flag,
Black Pus,
Crispy Ambulance,
B.T. Express,
Lungfish,
Pierre Henry,
the Swans,
Pole,
The Smiths,
Drive Like Jehu,
EPMD,
Marine Girls,
Quadrant,
Soft Machine,
The Mummies,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Hardrive,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Blues Magoos,
Brothers Johnson,
Arcadia,
Loose Ends,
Easy Going,
Mary Jane Girls,
Soul Sonic Force,
Joyce Sims,
La Düsseldorf,
Fad Gadget,
Ludus,
Agitation Free,
Pharoah Sanders,
Anthony Braxton,
Rakim,
Donald Byrd,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Danielle Patucci,
Darondo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nico,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.