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 Romania and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 oboe 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 Jacob Miller to the grime 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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Darondo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jacques Brel,
Kevin Saunderson,
Eric Copeland,
Pulsallama,
Jimmy McGriff,
Roxy Music,
Yusef Lateef,
Sixth Finger,
Cymande,
Black Flag,
John Holt,
Black Pus,
ABC,
OOIOO,
Severed Heads,
Stiv Bators,
Newcleus,
Japan,
Alice Coltrane,
Oneida,
The Litter,
Quadrant,
The Cowsills,
Quando Quango,
Deadbeat,
Circle Jerks,
Joyce Sims,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Modern Lovers,
Cecil Taylor,
Aural Exciters,
Danielle Patucci,
La Düsseldorf,
Mo-Dettes,
Can,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Mad Mike,
John Cale,
Unwound,
Roy Ayers,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Walker Brothers,
Monolake,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Zeros,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
David Bowie,
Andrew Hill,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Accadde A,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Alison Limerick,
The Kinks,
The Evens,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.