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 Brazil and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bologna.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Cameo to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Surgeon,
EPMD,
Stiv Bators,
Fad Gadget,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ornette Coleman,
Oblivians,
Alice Coltrane,
Arcadia,
Cymande,
Tom Boy,
48th St. Collective,
Skriet,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
10cc,
The Victims,
John Holt,
Gong,
Kenny Larkin,
Dawn Penn,
kango's stein massive,
The Mojo Men,
Minutemen,
Bang On A Can,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
DJ Style,
Bill Near,
Stereo Dub,
Deakin,
KRS-One,
The Five Americans,
Jimmy McGriff,
Swans,
The Invisible,
Sun Ra,
Spoonie Gee,
Cluster,
Trumans Water,
Albert Ayler,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pole,
The Flesh Eaters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Chris Corsano,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Audionom,
John Lydon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Unrelated Segments,
Harry Pussy,
The Vogues,
Harmonia,
Echospace,
Sandy B,
Nils Olav,
Erykah Badu,
Schoolly D,
Ken Boothe,
Rotary Connection,
Donny Hathaway,
Hoover,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.