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 Guinea and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Interpol to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Simply Red,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Trumans Water,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Marine Girls,
These Immortal Souls,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mo-Dettes,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Shuggie Otis,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kas Product,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Boredoms,
Mr. Review,
OOIOO,
Dark Day,
John Holt,
Max Romeo,
The Remains,
Harmonia,
Robert Wyatt,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Shoche,
Morten Harket,
Lou Reed,
The Dirtbombs,
Terry Callier,
Unwound,
Rekid,
Surgeon,
Pussy Galore,
Tres Demented,
Bluetip,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Stooges,
Nirvana,
Smog,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Human League,
Bush Tetras,
The Zeros,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Human League,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Second Layer,
Gerry Rafferty,
Barry Ungar,
Procol Harum,
The Gap Band,
Rites of Spring,
Black Flag,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Grauzone,
Faust,
Black Sheep,
Thee Headcoats,
Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One.
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.