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 Armenia and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 the Human League to the grunge 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rufus Thomas,
Jacob Miller,
Chris & Cosey,
Donny Hathaway,
Fugazi,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gang of Four,
Gil Scott Heron,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Searchers,
Swell Maps,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mission of Burma,
Nik Kershaw,
Index,
The Residents,
The J.B.'s,
Minor Threat,
Dawn Penn,
The Skatalites,
Howard Jones,
Dorothy Ashby,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Angels of Light,
Sun City Girls,
Bizarre Inc.,
John Coltrane,
Boz Scaggs,
The Fortunes,
The Music Machine,
Al Stewart,
Roy Ayers,
The Invisible,
Frankie Knuckles,
Basic Channel,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Golliwogs,
The Litter,
Tears for Fears,
The Fugs,
Oblivians,
Con Funk Shun,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pharoah Sanders,
Joe Smooth,
Leonard Cohen,
the Bar-Kays,
Magma,
Darondo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Severed Heads,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Misunderstood,
La Düsseldorf,
Faust,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kenny Larkin,
Janne Schatter,
Easy Going,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.