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 Kyrgyzstan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Grass Roots 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 The Motions. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
Royal Trux,
The Toasters,
Angry Samoans,
Harmonia,
B.T. Express,
Harpers Bizarre,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tres Demented,
Scientists,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Erykah Badu,
The Residents,
Reuben Wilson,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Swans,
Girls At Our Best!,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Trojans,
Excepter,
The Mummies,
The Kinks,
Stiv Bators,
Amon Düül,
MC5,
Eddi Front,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Bananas,
Henry Cow,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Monks,
Sound Behaviour,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Invisible,
the Bar-Kays,
Brick,
The Moleskins,
Negative Approach,
Flipper,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Al Stewart,
Fugazi,
X-Ray Spex,
The Black Dice,
The Zeros,
The Moody Blues,
Moebius,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lou Christie,
Wasted Youth,
Davy DMX,
The Human League,
Pylon,
Bluetip,
Boredoms,
Gichy Dan,
Josef K,
Nirvana,
Pierre Henry,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gong,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.