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 Brunei and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 ABC to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Echospace. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mars,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Minnie Riperton,
U.S. Maple,
Ohio Players,
Ornette Coleman,
Maurizio,
Ronan,
Arab on Radar,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sarah Menescal,
Kerri Chandler,
DJ Sneak,
The Alarm Clocks,
Basic Channel,
Sällskapet,
The Standells,
Piero Umiliani,
The Human League,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Johnny Clarke,
Yusef Lateef,
Massinfluence,
The Saints,
Lakeside,
Yellowson,
Silicon Teens,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Cure,
Lee Hazlewood,
Donny Hathaway,
Cameo,
Procol Harum,
Whodini,
Bob Dylan,
Camberwell Now,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Saccharine Trust,
Eric B and Rakim,
Agitation Free,
Deepchord,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Dirtbombs,
Henry Cow,
The Last Poets,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kool Moe Dee,
Moebius,
Motorama,
Graham Central Station,
Angry Samoans,
Lou Christie,
Mr. Review,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Barclay James Harvest,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.