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 Bulgaria and from Portland.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 Fat Boys to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Man Eating Sloth,
Johnny Clarke,
Barrington Levy,
Suicide,
Andrew Hill,
Fela Kuti,
Q65,
Aloha Tigers,
Yusef Lateef,
Accadde A,
Lebanon Hanover,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Radiohead,
The Busters,
Technova,
The Kinks,
John Foxx,
The Cure,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fat Boys,
Circle Jerks,
The Techniques,
Juan Atkins,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Dead C,
Marmalade,
Funky Four + One,
Sarah Menescal,
Cal Tjader,
Con Funk Shun,
Cheater Slicks,
ABC,
Erasure,
Joey Negro,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Nas,
The Moody Blues,
Tres Demented,
Make Up,
John Coltrane,
Chris Corsano,
Terry Callier,
Schoolly D,
Bob Dylan,
Wally Richardson,
Infiniti,
Zapp,
The Human League,
KRS-One,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Basic Channel,
Sugar Minott,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rosa Yemen,
Ralphi Rosario,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
A Certain Ratio,
David Bowie,
D'Angelo,
The Gun Club,
Young Marble Giants,
The Residents,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.