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 Lebanon and from Milan.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 oboe 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Althea and Donna record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maleditus Sound,
The Wake,
Drive Like Jehu,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Standells,
Radio Birdman,
Mad Mike,
Au Pairs,
The Music Machine,
Arcadia,
Skaos,
Grey Daturas,
Maurizio,
China Crisis,
Tim Buckley,
Frankie Knuckles,
Banda Bassotti,
Desert Stars,
Rufus Thomas,
Gil Scott Heron,
Vainqueur,
David Axelrod,
Thompson Twins,
David Bowie,
Nico,
Fatback Band,
Drexciya,
Neu!,
Bobby Womack,
Scrapy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Curtis Mayfield,
Guru Guru,
The Slits,
The Fall,
The Velvet Underground,
Idris Muhammad,
Jeff Mills,
Surgeon,
Anakelly,
Cal Tjader,
Stiv Bators,
Althea and Donna,
The Tremeloes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ultravox,
Black Sheep,
John Cale,
Visage,
Black Pus,
Tommy Roe,
Graham Central Station,
Young Marble Giants,
Marshall Jefferson,
OOIOO,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sam Rivers,
Ohio Players,
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.