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 South Sudan and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Crispy Ambulance to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Deakin,
Bobby Sherman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Main Source,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Schoolly D,
Pharoah Sanders,
Man Eating Sloth,
The J.B.'s,
Black Flag,
Soul II Soul,
The Black Dice,
Judy Mowatt,
Spoonie Gee,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Music Machine,
New York Dolls,
Grandmaster Flash,
Faraquet,
Moebius,
Sarah Menescal,
Cybotron,
The Evens,
Suicide,
Cal Tjader,
Wasted Youth,
The Modern Lovers,
Outsiders,
The United States of America,
Minnie Riperton,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kurtis Blow,
The Cramps,
Black Bananas,
Glenn Branca,
Excepter,
Symarip,
The Stooges,
Yaz,
R.M.O.,
Metal Thangz,
Hot Snakes,
Junior Murvin,
Scratch Acid,
Pierre Henry,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rosa Yemen,
Newcleus,
Talk Talk,
Bronski Beat,
Jerry's Kids,
The Misunderstood,
Lebanon Hanover,
Blancmange,
Shoche,
Fela Kuti,
Ornette Coleman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Associates,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.