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 Colombia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Sugar Minott to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Terry Callier,
Fear,
The Barracudas,
the Association,
Soft Machine,
Loose Ends,
Yaz,
Sun City Girls,
a-ha,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Liliput,
Rites of Spring,
The Cure,
The Last Poets,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cymande,
Clear Light,
Godley & Creme,
Rod Modell,
Skarface,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ronan,
The Human League,
Wings,
Pussy Galore,
Mark Hollis,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
X-102,
Main Source,
Roxy Music,
R.M.O.,
The Birthday Party,
Echospace,
David Axelrod,
London Community Gospel Choir,
New York Dolls,
One Last Wish,
Eli Mardock,
The Seeds,
Yellowson,
Los Fastidios,
Lee Hazlewood,
Roger Hodgson,
Bobby Womack,
Joyce Sims,
Unrelated Segments,
Brass Construction,
Duran Duran,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sparks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Don Cherry,
Gang Green,
Al Stewart,
Henry Cow,
The Saints,
Eric Dolphy,
Crooked Eye,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.