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 the UAE and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Jacob Miller to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
The Slackers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Trojans,
Crooked Eye,
These Immortal Souls,
Television,
Motorama,
Khruangbin,
Barbara Tucker,
The Martian,
Barry Ungar,
Ken Boothe,
Funky Four + One,
Nico,
Marmalade,
The Cramps,
The Blues Magoos,
Gregory Isaacs,
Amazonics,
Curtis Mayfield,
Warsaw,
Ice-T,
Scion,
Throbbing Gristle,
Porter Ricks,
Sam Rivers,
Depeche Mode,
Pantaleimon,
Angry Samoans,
Suburban Knight,
Sun Ra,
The Saints,
Derrick May,
Los Fastidios,
June Days,
Jawbox,
Soulsonic Force,
Shuggie Otis,
Lucky Dragons,
Bill Near,
The Fortunes,
Johnny Clarke,
The Standells,
Morten Harket,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
John Holt,
The Fugs,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Fluxion,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Toni Rubio,
The Stooges,
the Slits,
Piero Umiliani,
The Dirtbombs,
Simply Red,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nirvana,
Traffic Nightmare,
Agent Orange,
Pharoah Sanders,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.