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 Angola and from Tehran.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Isaac Hayes,
Byron Stingily,
Thee Headcoats,
Prince Buster,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Blues Magoos,
Clear Light,
Hoover,
Iggy Pop,
DJ Sneak,
The Last Poets,
Organ,
Ohio Players,
Sam Rivers,
Jawbox,
John Holt,
Rotary Connection,
Massinfluence,
Barclay James Harvest,
Brand Nubian,
Tubeway Army,
Duran Duran,
Infiniti,
Rosa Yemen,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Second Layer,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ten City,
MDC,
Drive Like Jehu,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jeff Lynne,
Vladislav Delay,
The Seeds,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Kinks,
Gang Green,
The Count Five,
Minutemen,
Judy Mowatt,
James White and The Blacks,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Human League,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Crash Course in Science,
Anakelly,
The Dirtbombs,
Albert Ayler,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Drexciya,
The United States of America,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Gap Band,
The Standells,
Altered Images,
The Move,
Bluetip,
Wire,
The Golliwogs,
Eve St. Jones,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.