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 Eritrea and from Tehran.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Minnie Riperton to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
The Sonics,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Association,
The Angels of Light,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Human League,
Aswad,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
T. Rex,
Pierre Henry,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Technova,
Albert Ayler,
Laurel Aitken,
The Residents,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Real Kids,
Inner City,
The Victims,
Jeru the Damaja,
Simply Red,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ornette Coleman,
Darondo,
The New Christs,
Roger Hodgson,
Godley & Creme,
The Cure,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Angry Samoans,
DJ Sneak,
Skriet,
These Immortal Souls,
Moebius,
Drexciya,
Black Bananas,
The Dave Clark Five,
Thee Headcoats,
Q and Not U,
Eddi Front,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nils Olav,
Make Up,
Glambeats Corp.,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Morten Harket,
The Monks,
Desert Stars,
David Axelrod,
Alice Coltrane,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Janne Schatter,
Gregory Isaacs,
Scan 7,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Tears for Fears,
Black Sheep,
Mission of Burma,
Skarface,
Dennis Brown,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.