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 Brazil and from Bremen.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Anthony Braxton to the punk 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 The Monochrome Set. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Deepchord,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soul II Soul,
Cal Tjader,
Desert Stars,
The Shadows of Knight,
Harpers Bizarre,
Faust,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mark Hollis,
The Tremeloes,
John Holt,
Average White Band,
Lakeside,
Ornette Coleman,
The Beau Brummels,
New Age Steppers,
Eli Mardock,
Procol Harum,
Idris Muhammad,
Robert Wyatt,
Robert Hood,
Ossler,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Little Man,
Nik Kershaw,
FM Einheit,
Tubeway Army,
The Fortunes,
The Sound,
Fatback Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ultravox,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Gun Club,
Kaleidoscope,
Scientists,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ludus,
Pantytec,
Soft Machine,
Thee Headcoats,
DJ Sneak,
UT,
Isaac Hayes,
Brothers Johnson,
Shuggie Otis,
Tropical Tobacco,
X-101,
The Black Dice,
Eve St. Jones,
Flipper,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Slits,
Wolf Eyes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Zero Boys,
The Monochrome Set,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.