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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Gap Band to the jazz 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 The Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Matthew Halsall,
Todd Rundgren,
Lucky Dragons,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sugar Minott,
Fela Kuti,
Erasure,
Bang On A Can,
The Young Rascals,
Average White Band,
The Kinks,
Tres Demented,
Wings,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
L. Decosne,
Joe Smooth,
Sun Ra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
World's Most,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Wally Richardson,
Sun City Girls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lee Hazlewood,
Mission of Burma,
Grey Daturas,
Excepter,
Janne Schatter,
Bauhaus,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pylon,
Sex Pistols,
Jerry's Kids,
Vladislav Delay,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Alphaville,
Terry Callier,
Boredoms,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Qualms,
Skaos,
Pantaleimon,
Desert Stars,
Traffic Nightmare,
Subhumans,
Silicon Teens,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fear,
David McCallum,
Gabor Szabo,
Slave,
Scratch Acid,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mandrill,
Sam Rivers,
Stetsasonic,
Gong,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.