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 Paraguay and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Nas to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott Heron,
The Kinks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Television,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bob Dylan,
Rotary Connection,
Ultra Naté,
Faraquet,
Andrew Hill,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mr. Review,
Tears for Fears,
Henry Cow,
Animal Collective,
Pantytec,
Robert Görl,
Mad Mike,
Sällskapet,
Visage,
Deakin,
Bill Wells,
This Heat,
Kenny Larkin,
Wire,
Shoche,
Lou Reed,
The Wake,
Neil Young,
Colin Newman,
Silicon Teens,
Vainqueur,
Country Teasers,
Scrapy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mission of Burma,
The Residents,
The Doors,
Albert Ayler,
Camberwell Now,
Matthew Bourne,
Arthur Verocai,
Davy DMX,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Mojo Men,
Agent Orange,
Grauzone,
Scratch Acid,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Motorama,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Nation of Ulysses,
F. McDonald,
Slave,
Fela Kuti,
The Music Machine,
Ultimate Spinach,
Derrick Morgan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.