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 China and from Philadelphia.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 Andrew Hill to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Heaven 17,
The Red Krayola,
Supertramp,
The Divine Comedy,
Hot Snakes,
Unrelated Segments,
Grey Daturas,
Q65,
Buzzcocks,
Sun City Girls,
Camouflage,
Funkadelic,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Derrick Morgan,
Henry Cow,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Music Machine,
Robert Wyatt,
Judy Mowatt,
Can,
New York Dolls,
E-Dancer,
Fat Boys,
Lalo Schifrin,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Yusef Lateef,
The Toasters,
Yellowson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Aaron Thompson,
Underground Resistance,
Spoonie Gee,
Godley & Creme,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Pretty Things,
The Golliwogs,
Brothers Johnson,
The Martian,
Grandmaster Flash,
Tim Buckley,
Gregory Isaacs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Japan,
Eric B and Rakim,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Barry Ungar,
Gerry Rafferty,
Vainqueur,
The Busters,
Technova,
The Seeds,
The Sound,
Todd Terry,
Dead Boys,
Motorama,
MC5,
Altered Images,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crime,
The Human League,
Scan 7,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.