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 Eritrea and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Toasters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
Altered Images,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mandrill,
Sun City Girls,
the Slits,
Ituana,
Hoover,
Stereo Dub,
E-Dancer,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ken Boothe,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pagans,
Moebius,
Eddi Front,
Marmalade,
Jandek,
Drive Like Jehu,
Simply Red,
Freddie Wadling,
Massinfluence,
The Monochrome Set,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Flamin' Groovies,
Minor Threat,
Smog,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Infiniti,
Magazine,
Idris Muhammad,
The Toasters,
In Retrospect,
Crispy Ambulance,
Thee Headcoats,
Ice-T,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Youth Brigade,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Smiths,
Kenny Larkin,
Underground Resistance,
Harry Pussy,
Porter Ricks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Grass Roots,
Surgeon,
Slick Rick,
Reuben Wilson,
Severed Heads,
Cymande,
Sandy B,
Dorothy Ashby,
Barry Ungar,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Blues Magoos,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Flipper,
Nick Fraelich,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.