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 Colombia and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 B and Rakim to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Idris Muhammad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
The Trojans,
Amazonics,
Ten City,
The Selecter,
The Divine Comedy,
K-Klass,
Cecil Taylor,
Soul II Soul,
Judy Mowatt,
the Human League,
Sun Ra,
Bad Manners,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tomorrow,
Circle Jerks,
Scientists,
Gong,
Cal Tjader,
The Moody Blues,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ponytail,
The Dirtbombs,
Mark Hollis,
Albert Ayler,
Harry Pussy,
Tommy Roe,
E-Dancer,
Panda Bear,
Graham Central Station,
Ohio Players,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cameo,
The Litter,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Drexciya,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rekid,
Steve Hackett,
Pole,
Sight & Sound,
Organ,
Urselle,
Fatback Band,
Sex Pistols,
The Golliwogs,
Black Flag,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Names,
Accadde A,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gang Starr,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Erykah Badu,
Amon Düül II,
The Red Krayola,
Masters at Work,
Fela Kuti,
The Stooges,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.