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 Saudi Arabia and from New York.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the punk 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 Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers Ubiquity record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
The Cowsills,
Glenn Branca,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Drexciya,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tomorrow,
The Kinks,
Amon Düül,
Hasil Adkins,
Amon Düül II,
Rapeman,
Masters at Work,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lyres,
Gabor Szabo,
Siglo XX,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Clear Light,
Eric Dolphy,
Average White Band,
Mo-Dettes,
Soul Sonic Force,
Letta Mbulu,
Crispy Ambulance,
Circle Jerks,
Davy DMX,
Funkadelic,
Black Sheep,
The Vogues,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Darondo,
The Sonics,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Standells,
Excepter,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Blossom Toes,
Ronan,
Anthony Braxton,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cybotron,
Lou Reed,
Kerri Chandler,
Con Funk Shun,
Neil Young,
E-Dancer,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lee Hazlewood,
New Age Steppers,
D'Angelo,
Reagan Youth,
Alphaville,
The Evens,
The Litter,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
UT,
Nirvana,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
EPMD,
the Bar-Kays,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.