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 Belize and from Copenhagen.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Glasgow.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the grime 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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bizarre Inc. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Tremeloes,
Los Fastidios,
Sixth Finger,
Rakim,
Gastr Del Sol,
Qualms,
Soul Sonic Force,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Dirtbombs,
Lightning Bolt,
Babytalk,
Stockholm Monsters,
the Fania All-Stars,
T.S.O.L.,
The Blues Magoos,
The Birthday Party,
Crispy Ambulance,
Negative Approach,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Black Dice,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Yusef Lateef,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Make Up,
Patti Smith,
Anakelly,
Eric Dolphy,
Procol Harum,
Excepter,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bronski Beat,
The New Christs,
Mad Mike,
Hot Snakes,
Bobby Byrd,
The Alarm Clocks,
Basic Channel,
Gang Green,
Joe Finger,
The Cure,
Ronan,
Brothers Johnson,
Neu!,
Bad Manners,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cameo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The J.B.'s,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Royal Trux,
Oblivians,
Howard Jones,
Dawn Penn,
Donald Byrd,
Scientists,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pulsallama,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.