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 Japan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Eric Copeland to the disco 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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Adolescents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Malaria!,
Wings,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Livin' Joy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Hot Snakes,
The Invisible,
Lebanon Hanover,
Royal Trux,
The Moleskins,
Arthur Verocai,
Nas,
Quantec,
Eve St. Jones,
The Dave Clark Five,
Swans,
Chris & Cosey,
Zapp,
Joyce Sims,
Pharoah Sanders,
Letta Mbulu,
Donny Hathaway,
Ultravox,
Black Flag,
Juan Atkins,
The Black Dice,
Deadbeat,
Sonny Sharrock,
Underground Resistance,
Harmonia,
Isaac Hayes,
Albert Ayler,
Khruangbin,
Eric Copeland,
The Fire Engines,
Mr. Review,
Accadde A,
Bizarre Inc.,
MDC,
Slick Rick,
Skriet,
Morten Harket,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sandy B,
Charles Mingus,
B.T. Express,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Spandau Ballet,
Flamin' Groovies,
Blake Baxter,
Lucky Dragons,
Funkadelic,
Judy Mowatt,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
JFA,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bobby Womack,
Traffic Nightmare,
Average White Band,
Rekid,
Procol Harum,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.