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 Sudan and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Terry Callier to the funk 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 Soul II Soul. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry's Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars 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?
Funkadelic,
Pylon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Roxy Music,
Desert Stars,
Whodini,
Oblivians,
Altered Images,
Bronski Beat,
F. McDonald,
Marc Almond,
Smog,
Essential Logic,
Marcia Griffiths,
Clear Light,
Little Man,
Bob Dylan,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Residents,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fela Kuti,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Los Fastidios,
Graham Central Station,
Grauzone,
Simply Red,
New York Dolls,
Absolute Body Control,
The Index,
Johnny Clarke,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Neon Judgement,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gerry Rafferty,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Cameo,
Connie Case,
Scientists,
the Human League,
Intrusion,
Eric Dolphy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
June of 44,
Soft Machine,
Jawbox,
Fatback Band,
Darondo,
Crime,
Dual Sessions,
Joyce Sims,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Hot Snakes,
the Soft Cell,
Barbara Tucker,
The Gun Club,
Q65,
Bang On A Can,
Laurel Aitken,
John Cale,
James White and The Blacks,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.