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 Andorra and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Cosmic Jokers to the techno 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 Heavy D & The Boyz. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sunsets and Hearts record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Simply Red,
Blancmange,
The Black Dice,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marine Girls,
The Remains,
Gang Starr,
Q65,
Bang On A Can,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Barracudas,
Faust,
The Raincoats,
Althea and Donna,
Sonny Sharrock,
Gong,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Marmalade,
The Martian,
Soul II Soul,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mandrill,
LL Cool J,
MDC,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mr. Review,
The Fire Engines,
The Sonics,
Crash Course in Science,
Lee Hazlewood,
James White and The Blacks,
Robert Hood,
DJ Sneak,
Bauhaus,
Von Mondo,
Whodini,
Bill Wells,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Junior Murvin,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Doors,
The Associates,
The Stooges,
Lalann,
Guru Guru,
Drive Like Jehu,
Unrelated Segments,
The Angels of Light,
Panda Bear,
OOIOO,
the Soft Cell,
Massinfluence,
Index,
Shuggie Otis,
Absolute Body Control,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Silicon Teens,
The Victims,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.