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 Czech Republic and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 Mexico City and Columbus.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
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 Ornette Coleman to the grunge 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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Gang Starr,
Livin' Joy,
Judy Mowatt,
Eddi Front,
The Slits,
Wire,
The Last Poets,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Smiths,
Anakelly,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Fuzztones,
Magazine,
The Beau Brummels,
Dawn Penn,
Barry Ungar,
Donny Hathaway,
The Mojo Men,
Japan,
Magma,
DNA,
The Detroit Cobras,
Motorama,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kenny Larkin,
Mandrill,
John Holt,
Q and Not U,
Amon Düül,
Minutemen,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Quadrant,
Vainqueur,
Pylon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Underground Resistance,
L. Decosne,
The Pretty Things,
The Velvet Underground,
Rod Modell,
The Birthday Party,
The Monochrome Set,
The Motions,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Chris & Cosey,
Barrington Levy,
Absolute Body Control,
Funky Four + One,
The Skatalites,
Joyce Sims,
The Modern Lovers,
Masters at Work,
Althea and Donna,
Gang of Four,
Marine Girls,
Juan Atkins,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.