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 Kosovo and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bobby Womack to the grunge 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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
AZ,
Rites of Spring,
FM Einheit,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mantronix,
Hoover,
Alphaville,
Simply Red,
Roxette,
DNA,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Man Parrish,
the Swans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
A Certain Ratio,
Todd Rundgren,
F. McDonald,
Thompson Twins,
Excepter,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Star Department,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lightning Bolt,
Gregory Isaacs,
Dual Sessions,
June of 44,
The Buckinghams,
the Human League,
Qualms,
Grey Daturas,
Gang of Four,
Mission of Burma,
Susan Cadogan,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Standells,
Howard Jones,
Parry Music,
Intrusion,
Spandau Ballet,
The Gories,
Unrelated Segments,
Silicon Teens,
Scott Walker,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Fortunes,
Quando Quango,
Anthony Braxton,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Black Flag,
Cameo,
Quantec,
The Cramps,
The Sonics,
Interpol,
Masters at Work,
a-ha,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.