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 Haiti 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet 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 U.S. Maple 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Wally Richardson,
Scan 7,
Brothers Johnson,
Monks,
Symarip,
Suicide,
Buzzcocks,
Arcadia,
Yusef Lateef,
Sound Behaviour,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mr. Review,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Black Flag,
Magma,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Associates,
K-Klass,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bush Tetras,
A Certain Ratio,
Sällskapet,
Procol Harum,
Blancmange,
Soul Sonic Force,
Trumans Water,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lindisfarne,
Aloha Tigers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Sound,
Lungfish,
The Fuzztones,
Mary Jane Girls,
Junior Murvin,
Skriet,
Dave Gahan,
LL Cool J,
One Last Wish,
The Young Rascals,
Whodini,
Anthony Braxton,
Monolake,
The Selecter,
Chris & Cosey,
Dual Sessions,
Gong,
Bronski Beat,
Slave,
Zero Boys,
Crooked Eye,
The Residents,
Andrew Hill,
The Slits,
Al Stewart,
Flash Fearless,
David Axelrod,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.