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 Bahamas and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar 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 Ice-T to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Aaron Thompson. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Underground Resistance,
Soul II Soul,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gang Starr,
Sparks,
Crooked Eye,
Saccharine Trust,
Main Source,
Altered Images,
The Cowsills,
Jimmy McGriff,
Anthony Braxton,
The Raincoats,
8 Eyed Spy,
Newcleus,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mark Hollis,
Derrick May,
Ronnie Foster,
Interpol,
Todd Terry,
Minor Threat,
Warren Ellis,
Kurtis Blow,
The Saints,
Reagan Youth,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bobby Womack,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Remains,
Vainqueur,
New Order,
Black Pus,
Shuggie Otis,
Barbara Tucker,
The Fortunes,
The Monks,
The Moody Blues,
Jacques Brel,
Andrew Hill,
The Beau Brummels,
World's Most,
The Human League,
Organ,
Eve St. Jones,
These Immortal Souls,
Radio Birdman,
Blossom Toes,
Infiniti,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Thompson Twins,
Throbbing Gristle,
L. Decosne,
Rod Modell,
Hasil Adkins,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Cameo,
Q65,
Flipper,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.