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 Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Jacques Brel to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Fear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jandek 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
June Days,
the Fania All-Stars,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Thompson Twins,
Duran Duran,
Cymande,
Todd Terry,
Henry Cow,
Crispy Ambulance,
Yellowson,
The Raincoats,
Harpers Bizarre,
Magazine,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kevin Saunderson,
Subhumans,
Gang Gang Dance,
Harry Pussy,
The Smoke,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Doors,
Pantytec,
Hashim,
Ken Boothe,
Vainqueur,
Los Fastidios,
Chris & Cosey,
Terry Callier,
Cluster,
Bob Dylan,
E-Dancer,
Swans,
Ludus,
Newcleus,
Minutemen,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Schoolly D,
Cybotron,
DNA,
Pet Shop Boys,
Byron Stingily,
Mantronix,
Lucky Dragons,
The Cure,
Excepter,
Marvin Gaye,
Spandau Ballet,
Sarah Menescal,
Alison Limerick,
Tears for Fears,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Wyatt,
The Kinks,
Moby Grape,
Tim Buckley,
Brothers Johnson,
The Cramps,
Girls At Our Best!,
Metal Thangz,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.