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 Bangladesh and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Edmonton.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Max Romeo to the techno 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 Carl Craig. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker,
Nirvana,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Andrew Hill,
Arcadia,
Lower 48,
The Cowsills,
Sparks,
Don Cherry,
The United States of America,
Joy Division,
The Sonics,
Simply Red,
The Beau Brummels,
Gabor Szabo,
OOIOO,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sugar Minott,
The Gun Club,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Vainqueur,
Joe Smooth,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bronski Beat,
Ludus,
Hot Snakes,
Howard Jones,
The Music Machine,
Eric Dolphy,
The Walker Brothers,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Erykah Badu,
Tomorrow,
Bobby Womack,
Adolescents,
The Blackbyrds,
The Slackers,
the Normal,
Neil Young,
Brick,
Eddi Front,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Bizarre Inc.,
the Swans,
Spoonie Gee,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David Bowie,
Quadrant,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Byron Stingily,
Clear Light,
Black Flag,
UT,
Absolute Body Control,
Inner City,
Colin Newman,
Marmalade,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Loose Ends,
Cal Tjader,
Rites of Spring,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.