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 United Kingdom and from Lyon.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 sitar 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 The Pretty Things to the funk 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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flash Fearless,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Soulsonic Force,
The Pretty Things,
Faraquet,
Robert Görl,
The J.B.'s,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Smiths,
F. McDonald,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Prince Buster,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Metal Thangz,
John Holt,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jacques Brel,
June of 44,
The Grass Roots,
Desert Stars,
Minny Pops,
T. Rex,
Deepchord,
The Wake,
DJ Sneak,
Rakim,
The Birthday Party,
The Happenings,
Blancmange,
Y Pants,
Black Flag,
Grauzone,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gastr Del Sol,
Crime,
Donald Byrd,
Archie Shepp,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pole,
The Evens,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Human League,
Depeche Mode,
The Index,
X-Ray Spex,
Tres Demented,
Niagra,
Lalo Schifrin,
Popol Vuh,
Johnny Clarke,
Robert Wyatt,
Althea and Donna,
Vladislav Delay,
Leonard Cohen,
Cal Tjader,
Soul II Soul,
the Slits,
The Fire Engines,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Hardrive,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.