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 Dominican Republic and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gil Scott Heron to the rap 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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Little Man tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
The Dead C,
Judy Mowatt,
Man Eating Sloth,
Derrick May,
the Bar-Kays,
Brothers Johnson,
Tom Boy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Aswad,
Young Marble Giants,
Juan Atkins,
Marmalade,
Barclay James Harvest,
Grauzone,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Aloha Tigers,
The Modern Lovers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Patti Smith,
Boogie Down Productions,
Laurel Aitken,
Sun Ra,
OOIOO,
Desert Stars,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Black Sheep,
The Fugs,
K-Klass,
Gang of Four,
Masters at Work,
Mission of Burma,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Chris Corsano,
Roger Hodgson,
Tears for Fears,
Howard Jones,
The New Christs,
Skaos,
The Tremeloes,
Japan,
KRS-One,
Hoover,
Henry Cow,
Arcadia,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Red Krayola,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Soft Machine,
Ultra Naté,
Unwound,
Liliput,
Pussy Galore,
New York Dolls,
Drexciya,
Royal Trux,
Colin Newman,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scrapy,
Soulsonic Force,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.