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 Kazakhstan and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Vogues to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mojo Men record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
New York Dolls,
PIL,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Skatalites,
Hasil Adkins,
Black Pus,
Black Moon,
The Victims,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ice-T,
Desert Stars,
Erykah Badu,
The Martian,
JFA,
Lakeside,
Vladislav Delay,
Ronnie Foster,
Anthony Braxton,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Alton Ellis,
Roxette,
Robert Görl,
In Retrospect,
Neil Young,
Jimmy McGriff,
Banda Bassotti,
Harry Pussy,
Morten Harket,
Electric Prunes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Red Krayola,
Sonny Sharrock,
Piero Umiliani,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Dave Clark Five,
Radio Birdman,
The Index,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Velvet Underground,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minny Pops,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Thompson Twins,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nirvana,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Infiniti,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sound Behaviour,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
June of 44,
Jacques Brel,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Jesper Dahlback,
KRS-One,
The Moleskins,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.