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 Oman and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Babytalk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Eric B and Rakim,
Brothers Johnson,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Five Americans,
Bad Manners,
Easy Going,
The Trojans,
The Cowsills,
OOIOO,
Inner City,
New York Dolls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Theoretical Girls,
Interpol,
A Certain Ratio,
The Offenders,
The Standells,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Isaac Hayes,
the Sonics,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pet Shop Boys,
Eli Mardock,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Germs,
Nick Fraelich,
Drive Like Jehu,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pulsallama,
Simply Red,
Organ,
Flash Fearless,
The Gladiators,
Man Parrish,
Deakin,
Siglo XX,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Yusef Lateef,
Sarah Menescal,
Scott Walker,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Blackbyrds,
CMW,
Ornette Coleman,
The Fugs,
Ten City,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Byron Stingily,
New Order,
Porter Ricks,
The Raincoats,
June Days,
David Bowie,
Subhumans,
Cheater Slicks,
the Soft Cell,
The Birthday Party,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.