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 Yemen and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Standells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
The Victims,
Procol Harum,
Circle Jerks,
Metal Thangz,
Max Romeo,
K-Klass,
The Barracudas,
Fugazi,
Sun City Girls,
Jandek,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Andrew Hill,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Byrd,
Mr. Review,
the Human League,
The Shadows of Knight,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jeff Mills,
the Sonics,
KRS-One,
Donald Byrd,
8 Eyed Spy,
Johnny Clarke,
Funkadelic,
Mandrill,
Rotary Connection,
Bang On A Can,
Delta 5,
Interpol,
The Searchers,
Organ,
Wasted Youth,
Joyce Sims,
The Busters,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fugs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Monolake,
OOIOO,
Pole,
Au Pairs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Chris & Cosey,
Roxy Music,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
David Bowie,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Duran Duran,
Anthony Braxton,
Trumans Water,
Juan Atkins,
Public Enemy,
Tropical Tobacco,
Camberwell Now,
Visage,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Cure,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Nas,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.