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 Spain and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Marshall Jefferson to the dance 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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Rod Modell,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Tremeloes,
Lalann,
Nils Olav,
Bobby Byrd,
The Leaves,
Boredoms,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fugazi,
Ten City,
Desert Stars,
Quadrant,
Tim Buckley,
Fear,
Amon Düül,
The Pretty Things,
Al Stewart,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Television,
Pole,
48th St. Collective,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ponytail,
The Names,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Panda Bear,
Boogie Down Productions,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kayak,
Minnie Riperton,
The Evens,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jerry's Kids,
Pet Shop Boys,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cosmic Jokers,
CMW,
Bill Wells,
Public Enemy,
Porter Ricks,
Skarface,
Toni Rubio,
Trumans Water,
Carl Craig,
Grauzone,
Urselle,
X-102,
Gregory Isaacs,
Warsaw,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
PIL,
Alton Ellis,
Delta 5,
The Barracudas,
The Busters,
T.S.O.L.,
Cybotron,
Infiniti,
Danielle Patucci,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites.
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.