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 Rwanda and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 organ 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the dance 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All The Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soulsonic Force record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Tres Demented,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Schoolly D,
Vladislav Delay,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Cecil Taylor,
Tropical Tobacco,
La Düsseldorf,
Ultimate Spinach,
Das Ding,
JFA,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gang Green,
Funkadelic,
Roger Hodgson,
DJ Style,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Vainqueur,
Newcleus,
Anthony Braxton,
The Doors,
Lightning Bolt,
The Angels of Light,
The Zeros,
Bush Tetras,
The American Breed,
Jacob Miller,
The Sonics,
Marcia Griffiths,
Severed Heads,
the Slits,
a-ha,
Rapeman,
Nico,
LL Cool J,
Agitation Free,
Deadbeat,
The Blues Magoos,
Ten City,
Skriet,
T.S.O.L.,
Todd Rundgren,
Grauzone,
Lee Hazlewood,
Goldenarms,
Pussy Galore,
Morten Harket,
Smog,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Residents,
Bauhaus,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The J.B.'s,
Gang of Four,
The Toasters,
Fugazi,
Crime,
Dark Day,
Swans,
Half Japanese,
Donny Hathaway,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.