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 New Zealand and from Spokane.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Oneida to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Lyres,
Underground Resistance,
Chrome,
Swell Maps,
Brothers Johnson,
Toni Rubio,
Gichy Dan,
Ice-T,
The New Christs,
Nas,
Spoonie Gee,
Mark Hollis,
Barbara Tucker,
June Days,
Soft Cell,
Make Up,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Cale,
Junior Murvin,
The Buckinghams,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sun City Girls,
Eric Dolphy,
Pulsallama,
The Martian,
Liliput,
Chris & Cosey,
Charles Mingus,
Ultravox,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Niagra,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Reuben Wilson,
The Fortunes,
Fear,
Lalann,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Dual Sessions,
Bobby Byrd,
Dave Gahan,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Jeff Lynne,
Saccharine Trust,
Yusef Lateef,
Hashim,
The Monochrome Set,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sällskapet,
The Doobie Brothers,
L. Decosne,
The Velvet Underground,
Wings,
Cluster,
Absolute Body Control,
Sight & Sound,
Vladislav Delay,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Blackbyrds,
Radiohead,
Negative Approach,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.