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 Denmark and from Columbus.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Anthony Braxton to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Blancmange,
Aswad,
Procol Harum,
Pylon,
Y Pants,
the Slits,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Sonics,
The Star Department,
Marine Girls,
Duran Duran,
Terry Callier,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
a-ha,
Fluxion,
Young Marble Giants,
The Slackers,
The Count Five,
Shuggie Otis,
The Litter,
Theoretical Girls,
Sparks,
Sonic Youth,
Pole,
Jeff Lynne,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Move,
The Grass Roots,
Intrusion,
Reagan Youth,
The Divine Comedy,
Swell Maps,
Subhumans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rosa Yemen,
Traffic Nightmare,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Barrington Levy,
Donny Hathaway,
Cheater Slicks,
Maurizio,
Hardrive,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Khruangbin,
Scientists,
Erasure,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Saccharine Trust,
Dark Day,
Quando Quango,
Terrestrial Tones,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gong,
Television,
Joy Division,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.