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 Serbia 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Mission of Burma to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wire. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
The Last Poets,
Saccharine Trust,
Interpol,
Theoretical Girls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Amazonics,
Arcadia,
F. McDonald,
X-102,
X-Ray Spex,
Idris Muhammad,
JFA,
A Certain Ratio,
Jacob Miller,
Pagans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Smoke,
New Order,
Robert Wyatt,
D'Angelo,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Easy Going,
Junior Murvin,
The Red Krayola,
Deakin,
Eddi Front,
Niagra,
the Human League,
The Monks,
Todd Rundgren,
Sandy B,
Pylon,
June of 44,
Wally Richardson,
Model 500,
Aswad,
John Foxx,
Ohio Players,
Bill Near,
The Buckinghams,
Deepchord,
Neil Young,
Slick Rick,
Nas,
the Fania All-Stars,
Amon Düül II,
Byron Stingily,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Crime,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Quando Quango,
Wire,
The Move,
Archie Shepp,
The Dirtbombs,
Brothers Johnson,
Cecil Taylor,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Cowsills,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.