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 Tanzania and from Woodstock.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
Yaz,
Althea and Donna,
Ossler,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Newcleus,
Whodini,
Sparks,
Zero Boys,
D'Angelo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Golliwogs,
Flipper,
Quadrant,
The Slackers,
MDC,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kevin Saunderson,
Oblivians,
the Association,
June Days,
Fear,
Dennis Brown,
Crispian St. Peters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The J.B.'s,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tim Buckley,
The Searchers,
Chris Corsano,
Tomorrow,
Fela Kuti,
KRS-One,
Freddie Wadling,
Soft Machine,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Tom Boy,
U.S. Maple,
Eve St. Jones,
EPMD,
Infiniti,
Country Teasers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cluster,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Moebius,
David Bowie,
June of 44,
The Angels of Light,
Half Japanese,
Icehouse,
The Gories,
Sugar Minott,
Jesper Dahlback,
Isaac Hayes,
B.T. Express,
Radiohead,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.