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 India and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Kevin Saunderson to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All D'Angelo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dual Sessions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Girls At Our Best!,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Fortunes,
The Cure,
Matthew Halsall,
The Tremeloes,
Mo-Dettes,
The United States of America,
The Electric Prunes,
Circle Jerks,
The Walker Brothers,
Scott Walker,
Average White Band,
Make Up,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jerry Gold Smith,
June Days,
Trumans Water,
Oneida,
Sonic Youth,
Prince Buster,
The Selecter,
Isaac Hayes,
The Real Kids,
Pharoah Sanders,
Stiv Bators,
CMW,
David Bowie,
Marshall Jefferson,
Black Bananas,
Janne Schatter,
Sun City Girls,
Parry Music,
Lou Reed,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Seeds,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Guru Guru,
Scan 7,
The Angels of Light,
Chris Corsano,
Chrome,
The Blues Magoos,
Panda Bear,
The Sound,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Busters,
Moby Grape,
Khruangbin,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Dirtbombs,
Accadde A,
Blossom Toes,
Yusef Lateef,
Grey Daturas,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Star Department,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
La Düsseldorf,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.