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 Colombia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the grunge 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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Model 500 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
John Cale,
Laurel Aitken,
Dennis Brown,
Stereo Dub,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Fela Kuti,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Can,
Steve Hackett,
The Gun Club,
Oneida,
Warren Ellis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Index,
Eden Ahbez,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Cowsills,
Letta Mbulu,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Silicon Teens,
Nirvana,
Nils Olav,
Livin' Joy,
The Sonics,
Gang Starr,
Hoover,
Con Funk Shun,
Eve St. Jones,
Freddie Wadling,
Stetsasonic,
Qualms,
Patti Smith,
Dual Sessions,
Model 500,
Pierre Henry,
Cluster,
Simply Red,
X-101,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Move,
X-Ray Spex,
Stiv Bators,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Das Ding,
Gregory Isaacs,
Circle Jerks,
Aaron Thompson,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Birthday Party,
The Flesh Eaters,
Shoche,
Flamin' Groovies,
Aloha Tigers,
Zero Boys,
Lucky Dragons,
The Raincoats,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.