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 Honduras and from Woodstock.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Cairo.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Gladiators to the grunge 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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Guru Guru,
Mo-Dettes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Flamin' Groovies,
Minutemen,
The Gladiators,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sun Ra,
the Germs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Judy Mowatt,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Inner City,
Connie Case,
Tomorrow,
Siglo XX,
Section 25,
The Dead C,
Boz Scaggs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Depeche Mode,
Andrew Hill,
Bluetip,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eric B and Rakim,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Alison Limerick,
Fugazi,
Al Stewart,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Minnie Riperton,
The Monks,
the Sonics,
Grauzone,
Eric Dolphy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Stetsasonic,
Shoche,
Parry Music,
Pulsallama,
Interpol,
Althea and Donna,
Half Japanese,
Average White Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Jeff Mills,
Rosa Yemen,
Intrusion,
Second Layer,
The Dirtbombs,
R.M.O.,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Fortunes,
Pussy Galore,
Crooked Eye,
Spoonie Gee,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.