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 Indonesia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Jakarta.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the 808 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 Matthew Halsall to the rap 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 Absolute Body Control. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q and Not U,
The Cramps,
Alison Limerick,
The Black Dice,
Ludus,
Jacob Miller,
Sugar Minott,
The Selecter,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Slave,
Boz Scaggs,
OOIOO,
Archie Shepp,
Section 25,
Funky Four + One,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
MDC,
Desert Stars,
Hardrive,
The Monks,
Piero Umiliani,
Camouflage,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
This Heat,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Smog,
Hashim,
The Gun Club,
Alice Coltrane,
Panda Bear,
Minor Threat,
The Gories,
The Red Krayola,
Underground Resistance,
Hoover,
Nils Olav,
Bluetip,
The Stooges,
Harmonia,
Patti Smith,
Boogie Down Productions,
Delta 5,
Blossom Toes,
Al Stewart,
The Modern Lovers,
Chrome,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
UT,
Sister Nancy,
Mission of Burma,
Siglo XX,
Alton Ellis,
Sarah Menescal,
Buzzcocks,
Lungfish,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pagans,
Kas Product,
Ralphi Rosario,
Aswad,
Roger Hodgson,
Talk Talk,
Newcleus,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.