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 Grenada and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Last Poets to the punk 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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Boredoms,
The Star Department,
Black Bananas,
Nirvana,
Marc Almond,
Monolake,
Hasil Adkins,
Brand Nubian,
Pantytec,
Sixth Finger,
Sly & The Family Stone,
48th St. Collective,
Scrapy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Warsaw,
Todd Rundgren,
Dave Gahan,
The American Breed,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Animal Collective,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Todd Terry,
Massinfluence,
Dennis Brown,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Gladiators,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scott Walker,
Rufus Thomas,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Slits,
Suicide,
Public Enemy,
LL Cool J,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Normal,
Rekid,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Television Personalities,
Sugar Minott,
Ludus,
Ohio Players,
Bang On A Can,
Cecil Taylor,
A Certain Ratio,
Heaven 17,
Minny Pops,
Harpers Bizarre,
Porter Ricks,
The Monks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Alice Coltrane,
Quadrant,
Sonny Sharrock,
Leonard Cohen,
Maleditus Sound,
Jacques Brel,
Bill Wells,
Danielle Patucci,
New Age Steppers,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.