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 New Zealand and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Angels of Light to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Duran Duran 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Scientists,
Duran Duran,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Flash Fearless,
Kenny Larkin,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ken Boothe,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Shadows of Knight,
Prince Buster,
Sun Ra,
Deepchord,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Blackbyrds,
Hasil Adkins,
Barry Ungar,
John Coltrane,
Colin Newman,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
the Normal,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Camberwell Now,
DNA,
Das Ding,
Grey Daturas,
Nils Olav,
Theoretical Girls,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Patti Smith,
The Pretty Things,
the Bar-Kays,
Ronan,
The Pop Group,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Whodini,
Ituana,
Letta Mbulu,
Harpers Bizarre,
Silicon Teens,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Harry Pussy,
Janne Schatter,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jacques Brel,
Sonic Youth,
Charles Mingus,
Malaria!,
Drexciya,
Oneida,
Eli Mardock,
The Count Five,
Joe Smooth,
Tomorrow,
The New Christs,
Howard Jones,
The Busters,
Pantytec,
Rhythm & Sound,
Throbbing Gristle,
Vladislav Delay,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.