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 Iceland and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Alice Coltrane to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Hill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
The J.B.'s,
Kevin Saunderson,
James White and The Blacks,
Man Parrish,
Hoover,
Wally Richardson,
The Slits,
Joyce Sims,
These Immortal Souls,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sixth Finger,
Marine Girls,
Khruangbin,
Camouflage,
Unwound,
Drexciya,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Fuzztones,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Graham Central Station,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Skarface,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Morten Harket,
Laurel Aitken,
Henry Cow,
Sun Ra,
Q and Not U,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Aloha Tigers,
Q65,
Zero Boys,
The Five Americans,
Scion,
Gang Green,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Electric Prunes,
The Gladiators,
Arab on Radar,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jimmy McGriff,
Moss Icon,
L. Decosne,
Moby Grape,
The Music Machine,
Kayak,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cheater Slicks,
Jawbox,
The Skatalites,
Bobby Sherman,
Joensuu 1685,
The Neon Judgement,
The Black Dice,
The Fire Engines,
Minutemen,
The Star Department,
The Blues Magoos,
Lower 48,
Sandy B,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.