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 South Sudan and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Rufus Thomas to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Talk Talk,
Isaac Hayes,
Black Moon,
cv313,
Tres Demented,
World's Most,
The Busters,
Buzzcocks,
Cybotron,
Jacob Miller,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Frankie Knuckles,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Mars,
The Invisible,
In Retrospect,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Marvin Gaye,
Althea and Donna,
The Moleskins,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wolf Eyes,
Groovy Waters,
Blake Baxter,
Kas Product,
Nico,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Monochrome Set,
Jerry's Kids,
The Sound,
Josef K,
Subhumans,
Boredoms,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Association,
Kool Moe Dee,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Modern Lovers,
Deepchord,
Piero Umiliani,
48th St. Collective,
Minny Pops,
Tommy Roe,
Alphaville,
Lou Reed,
Morten Harket,
Quadrant,
The Selecter,
The Kinks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Godley & Creme,
Funkadelic,
The Dirtbombs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lightning Bolt,
Matthew Bourne,
Depeche Mode,
Duran Duran,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.