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 San Marino and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Robert Wyatt to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Barry Ungar,
Rakim,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tommy Roe,
Gang Green,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Khruangbin,
Radio Birdman,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Darondo,
Skarface,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Howard Jones,
The Skatalites,
DJ Sneak,
Wings,
Lower 48,
The Selecter,
Mars,
Bush Tetras,
The Barracudas,
Stetsasonic,
Sixth Finger,
The Modern Lovers,
Franke,
The Happenings,
Bang On A Can,
Chris Corsano,
Crooked Eye,
Gichy Dan,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Five Americans,
Pagans,
Unwound,
Fugazi,
Jacques Brel,
The Slackers,
Tomorrow,
Lungfish,
Ludus,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bizarre Inc.,
Wasted Youth,
Juan Atkins,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
X-101,
Brothers Johnson,
The Blues Magoos,
Archie Shepp,
Faust,
The Birthday Party,
La Düsseldorf,
Arab on Radar,
Swans,
Roxy Music,
Nas,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.