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 Nicaragua and from Milan.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 marimba 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 Danielle Patucci to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kaleidoscope record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cymande,
The Names,
Malaria!,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Slits,
Whodini,
Ten City,
Das Ding,
Brick,
Livin' Joy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Soft Machine,
Scientists,
New Order,
Black Bananas,
Iggy Pop,
Nico,
Black Moon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cal Tjader,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Radiohead,
The Dead C,
The Last Poets,
Albert Ayler,
The Trojans,
Don Cherry,
Flash Fearless,
The Velvet Underground,
Funkadelic,
The Music Machine,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lee Hazlewood,
Nirvana,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Durutti Column,
Spoonie Gee,
Dead Boys,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Magma,
Aural Exciters,
Sun City Girls,
Mars,
Clear Light,
Eurythmics,
Massinfluence,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Fuzztones,
Eve St. Jones,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mo-Dettes,
Junior Murvin,
Altered Images,
Donny Hathaway,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Archie Shepp,
Camberwell Now,
The Victims,
Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound, Sight & Sound.
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.