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 Guinea-Bissau and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Slave to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donny Hathaway record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
This Heat,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Gun Club,
Pussy Galore,
The Flesh Eaters,
Deadbeat,
the Bar-Kays,
Agent Orange,
The Tremeloes,
MDC,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ultravox,
Young Marble Giants,
Dave Gahan,
The Modern Lovers,
Barrington Levy,
Henry Cow,
Tommy Roe,
Roy Ayers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Procol Harum,
The Knickerbockers,
The Remains,
Zero Boys,
Arab on Radar,
New York Dolls,
Half Japanese,
Ultra Naté,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Brick,
the Normal,
Gang Starr,
Camberwell Now,
The Electric Prunes,
Barry Ungar,
The Busters,
Wasted Youth,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Dave Clark Five,
Scott Walker,
Boz Scaggs,
Desert Stars,
David McCallum,
L. Decosne,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mr. Review,
The Buckinghams,
Lightning Bolt,
Amon Düül II,
Jeff Mills,
Robert Görl,
June of 44,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Buzzcocks,
Kerri Chandler,
The Skatalites,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dorothy Ashby,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Smiths,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.