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 Senegal and from Bologna.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Matthew Halsall to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Germs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Loose Ends,
Stetsasonic,
F. McDonald,
Quadrant,
Man Eating Sloth,
Electric Prunes,
The Red Krayola,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Animal Collective,
Siglo XX,
the Normal,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Man Parrish,
AZ,
Popol Vuh,
Lee Hazlewood,
DJ Style,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Martian,
Liliput,
Pole,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fela Kuti,
Grey Daturas,
D'Angelo,
Fear,
Faust,
World's Most,
One Last Wish,
Boz Scaggs,
The Index,
Danielle Patucci,
Letta Mbulu,
Matthew Bourne,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ornette Coleman,
Flamin' Groovies,
Todd Terry,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Yaz,
Ohio Players,
The American Breed,
The Grass Roots,
The Residents,
Jeff Lynne,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Buzzcocks,
Black Bananas,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Suburban Knight,
The Selecter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Slackers,
Lindisfarne,
Gang Starr,
Television,
Section 25,
Nils Olav,
David McCallum,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.