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 Nicaragua and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Eric Dolphy to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Ultravox,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mars,
Sam Rivers,
Clear Light,
The Offenders,
In Retrospect,
The Flesh Eaters,
T.S.O.L.,
The American Breed,
Sexual Harrassment,
OOIOO,
The Saints,
Los Fastidios,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Wings,
H. Thieme,
Amon Düül,
The Cure,
Rakim,
Grandmaster Flash,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
a-ha,
DJ Style,
Black Sheep,
Danielle Patucci,
Icehouse,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bobby Byrd,
Boz Scaggs,
Andrew Hill,
Henry Cow,
Roxette,
Darondo,
The Durutti Column,
Talk Talk,
Lightning Bolt,
Eli Mardock,
Pussy Galore,
FM Einheit,
Adolescents,
Negative Approach,
Eddi Front,
Chrome,
Gang Green,
Mad Mike,
La Düsseldorf,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Don Cherry,
the Slits,
Faust,
Byron Stingily,
Amazonics,
Essential Logic,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Blackbyrds,
Matthew Halsall,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.