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 Angola and from Jakarta.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Isaac Hayes to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Soul Sonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar 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?
Surgeon,
Infiniti,
The Vogues,
Hoover,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Monochrome Set,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
D'Angelo,
Drexciya,
Mars,
Fugazi,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Grauzone,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Chris & Cosey,
Ken Boothe,
Alison Limerick,
The Pretty Things,
Echospace,
John Coltrane,
Inner City,
Quadrant,
Jerry's Kids,
The Fuzztones,
Soul Sonic Force,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Isaac Hayes,
Bootsy Collins,
The Smoke,
Idris Muhammad,
MC5,
Erykah Badu,
Reuben Wilson,
Joey Negro,
Thee Headcoats,
Minutemen,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Tremeloes,
In Retrospect,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rakim,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Monks,
Gong,
Brass Construction,
Steve Hackett,
Supertramp,
Barrington Levy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bill Wells,
The Raincoats,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kool Moe Dee,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Underground Resistance,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rapeman,
David Bowie,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.