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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 John Holt to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Guru Guru tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
Minnie Riperton,
Drexciya,
Scrapy,
U.S. Maple,
Bobby Womack,
The Last Poets,
Barbara Tucker,
Radio Birdman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Niagra,
The Seeds,
Eurythmics,
Magazine,
Saccharine Trust,
Fat Boys,
Wire,
The Human League,
Parry Music,
Rakim,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
T.S.O.L.,
Intrusion,
New York Dolls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sonic Youth,
New Order,
Eve St. Jones,
LL Cool J,
Jesper Dahlback,
Barclay James Harvest,
Marmalade,
Sandy B,
Visage,
Panda Bear,
Oneida,
Little Man,
Mad Mike,
Ohio Players,
Porter Ricks,
Lebanon Hanover,
Prince Buster,
The Stooges,
The Black Dice,
Ponytail,
China Crisis,
Country Joe & The Fish,
PIL,
Donald Byrd,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sixth Finger,
Pere Ubu,
JFA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Barry Ungar,
Don Cherry,
The Standells,
Ronnie Foster,
The Divine Comedy,
Eli Mardock,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.