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 Georgia and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the crunk 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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
B.T. Express,
The Buckinghams,
The Blues Magoos,
David McCallum,
Joensuu 1685,
Glenn Branca,
June of 44,
Reagan Youth,
The Leaves,
Terry Callier,
Panda Bear,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Quando Quango,
Sarah Menescal,
New York Dolls,
Lower 48,
Ultimate Spinach,
Erasure,
Soul II Soul,
The Seeds,
Severed Heads,
Wally Richardson,
The Saints,
Kenny Larkin,
The Skatalites,
KRS-One,
L. Decosne,
Eric Dolphy,
The Neon Judgement,
Porter Ricks,
James White and The Blacks,
Make Up,
Juan Atkins,
The Vogues,
The United States of America,
Tomorrow,
Marcia Griffiths,
Country Teasers,
Liliput,
Nik Kershaw,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Wings,
Nas,
Rakim,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Agitation Free,
Quadrant,
The Kinks,
The Dirtbombs,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Buzzcocks,
Cal Tjader,
John Cale,
The Moleskins,
Alphaville,
The Electric Prunes,
Faust,
Eli Mardock,
Blossom Toes,
DJ Sneak,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.