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 Pakistan and from Milan.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 Residents to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Smog. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
Sun City Girls,
The Dave Clark Five,
Soul II Soul,
Scion,
Con Funk Shun,
Pole,
Grey Daturas,
Babytalk,
Stockholm Monsters,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Amon Düül II,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lower 48,
Warsaw,
Grandmaster Flash,
OOIOO,
Gabor Szabo,
Neu!,
Depeche Mode,
Shoche,
Black Pus,
Von Mondo,
Lee Hazlewood,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Silicon Teens,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Alton Ellis,
Nico,
Camouflage,
The J.B.'s,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eli Mardock,
Radiopuhelimet,
Nick Fraelich,
Black Flag,
Ten City,
Wally Richardson,
Panda Bear,
Basic Channel,
Girls At Our Best!,
Spandau Ballet,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dawn Penn,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Martian,
Carl Craig,
Nils Olav,
Anthony Braxton,
Lou Reed,
Eddi Front,
The Beau Brummels,
The Misunderstood,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sugar Minott,
Jeff Mills,
Accadde A,
Wolf Eyes,
Minutemen,
Tubeway Army,
Supertramp,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.