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 Georgia and from Mexico City.
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 Beijing and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Crispian St. Peters to the punk 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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alton Ellis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jawbox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jacob Miller,
Angry Samoans,
Chrome,
Sixth Finger,
Lucky Dragons,
Skriet,
Pere Ubu,
Shoche,
Yazoo,
June of 44,
The Moody Blues,
The Grass Roots,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Piero Umiliani,
Peter & Gordon,
The Shadows of Knight,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eurythmics,
Ituana,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eric B and Rakim,
Howard Jones,
Brothers Johnson,
Freddie Wadling,
Slick Rick,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fatback Band,
Todd Terry,
Glenn Branca,
Subhumans,
Ornette Coleman,
DJ Sneak,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Black Moon,
Carl Craig,
Gil Scott Heron,
Heaven 17,
Blancmange,
The Music Machine,
Unrelated Segments,
Harry Pussy,
Bush Tetras,
T.S.O.L.,
Flash Fearless,
Rod Modell,
The Names,
Scan 7,
Lalann,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Wings,
Eden Ahbez,
The Mummies,
F. McDonald,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Evens,
Lungfish,
Sugar Minott,
Gang Gang Dance,
Terrestrial Tones,
Underground Resistance,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.