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 Comoros and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and London.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ituana to the grunge 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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Sight & Sound,
Fear,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
June of 44,
Arthur Verocai,
Little Man,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Television,
Sun City Girls,
Pere Ubu,
Schoolly D,
the Germs,
Negative Approach,
Amazonics,
Arab on Radar,
The Black Dice,
The Selecter,
Bill Wells,
The Grass Roots,
Scratch Acid,
Mary Jane Girls,
Man Parrish,
John Holt,
Q and Not U,
Skarface,
Hasil Adkins,
Big Daddy Kane,
Moebius,
Pylon,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gang Starr,
Gichy Dan,
Buzzcocks,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Niagra,
The Motions,
Throbbing Gristle,
Television Personalities,
Urselle,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Derrick Morgan,
The Names,
Public Enemy,
Gang of Four,
Grandmaster Flash,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Royal Trux,
The Mojo Men,
Kevin Saunderson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Albert Ayler,
Mr. Review,
Connie Case,
Pulsallama,
PIL,
The Litter,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Soulsonic Force,
The Toasters,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.