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 Mauritania and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Walker Brothers,
Blake Baxter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Brick,
Suicide,
Albert Ayler,
Chris Corsano,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Germs,
The Velvet Underground,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Moleskins,
Neil Young,
Barrington Levy,
Joyce Sims,
The Real Kids,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Glenn Branca,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Severed Heads,
The Last Poets,
Barry Ungar,
Jeff Mills,
The Stooges,
Ice-T,
The Neon Judgement,
Lalann,
Television,
The Beau Brummels,
Minutemen,
The Sound,
Soft Machine,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Misunderstood,
Al Stewart,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Motions,
Bang On A Can,
Rekid,
Connie Case,
Monolake,
the Slits,
Kurtis Blow,
Amon Düül II,
June Days,
Joe Smooth,
PIL,
Colin Newman,
The Angels of Light,
Dawn Penn,
Agent Orange,
Marc Almond,
Ohio Players,
Audionom,
Yellowson,
Model 500,
Nas,
MDC,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.