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 Nepal and from Tokyo.
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 Cairo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Last Poets to the crunk 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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The American Breed,
The Smoke,
Ronan,
Nas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Das Ding,
The Mummies,
The Five Americans,
Hoover,
F. McDonald,
The Misunderstood,
Moby Grape,
Sixth Finger,
Essential Logic,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Althea and Donna,
Scientists,
Nico,
Magma,
Ponytail,
Prince Buster,
Sällskapet,
Jesper Dahlback,
JFA,
Tommy Roe,
Malaria!,
Black Moon,
Rakim,
The Count Five,
Ornette Coleman,
Rufus Thomas,
Agitation Free,
Echospace,
Metal Thangz,
The Tremeloes,
Peter and Kerry,
Angry Samoans,
Audionom,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Alton Ellis,
Wally Richardson,
The Angels of Light,
Soft Machine,
DJ Style,
Black Flag,
Newcleus,
Sparks,
Skarface,
Suburban Knight,
Peter & Gordon,
In Retrospect,
Eden Ahbez,
Wings,
The Smiths,
Marine Girls,
New Age Steppers,
Donny Hathaway,
Reagan Youth,
Jimmy McGriff,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.