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 Cape Verde and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Standells 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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gap Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
The Standells,
June Days,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Selecter,
The Star Department,
Aswad,
Boz Scaggs,
The Leaves,
Excepter,
Barry Ungar,
Darondo,
Depeche Mode,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Donny Hathaway,
The Divine Comedy,
Khruangbin,
Isaac Hayes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kas Product,
Joyce Sims,
This Heat,
Rosa Yemen,
Boogie Down Productions,
Anthony Braxton,
Graham Central Station,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sex Pistols,
Livin' Joy,
Monolake,
Bob Dylan,
the Sonics,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
X-102,
Hasil Adkins,
Rekid,
Massinfluence,
Curtis Mayfield,
Funky Four + One,
Pulsallama,
Brass Construction,
Ken Boothe,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cowsills,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
New York Dolls,
Harry Pussy,
Arcadia,
Ronnie Foster,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rakim,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Flipper,
Fugazi,
Tom Boy,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Moody Blues,
Yazoo,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.