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-Bissau and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Letta Mbulu to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Soft Machine,
Popol Vuh,
The Fortunes,
The Names,
Michelle Simonal,
Stiv Bators,
Scratch Acid,
Stereo Dub,
Tears for Fears,
Agitation Free,
Crime,
Wally Richardson,
Sex Pistols,
Crispian St. Peters,
EPMD,
The Flesh Eaters,
Circle Jerks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Aloha Tigers,
Deepchord,
Smog,
Technova,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Moss Icon,
the Swans,
Joy Division,
Kas Product,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Brothers Johnson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Fuzztones,
Eric Dolphy,
Pussy Galore,
Albert Ayler,
Warsaw,
The Wake,
Carl Craig,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Last Poets,
the Normal,
The Knickerbockers,
Alison Limerick,
The Smiths,
The Divine Comedy,
Heaven 17,
This Heat,
The Leaves,
the Bar-Kays,
The Five Americans,
The Blackbyrds,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Robert Hood,
the Soft Cell,
Pantytec,
The Mummies,
Oneida,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mr. Review,
Youth Brigade,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.