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 Gabon and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Public Image Ltd. to the rap 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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Kenny Larkin,
Amon Düül,
Yaz,
Eden Ahbez,
The Techniques,
Spandau Ballet,
Donald Byrd,
Rakim,
Lakeside,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Oblivians,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Neu!,
Fugazi,
Inner City,
Aswad,
Al Stewart,
the Bar-Kays,
Bill Near,
X-Ray Spex,
the Sonics,
The Cowsills,
Jacob Miller,
Visage,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fuzztones,
Anakelly,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bobby Womack,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
E-Dancer,
Cybotron,
Soulsonic Force,
The Kinks,
The Litter,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
ABC,
Dorothy Ashby,
Funky Four + One,
Subhumans,
Roger Hodgson,
The Searchers,
Nirvana,
Index,
Model 500,
Laurel Aitken,
X-101,
Scratch Acid,
Intrusion,
The Zeros,
Wings,
The Monochrome Set,
Skaos,
Audionom,
R.M.O.,
June of 44,
Freddie Wadling,
Black Pus,
Bad Manners,
Rekid,
MC5,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.