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 Hungary and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Adolescents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Marmalade,
The Dead C,
DNA,
Ten City,
The Move,
Qualms,
Crooked Eye,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Happenings,
T.S.O.L.,
T. Rex,
The Smiths,
Black Moon,
cv313,
Avey Tare,
Unrelated Segments,
Don Cherry,
Sonic Youth,
Bob Dylan,
Television Personalities,
Camouflage,
Eric B and Rakim,
Roxette,
David McCallum,
Minnie Riperton,
Bauhaus,
Niagra,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Doors,
Adolescents,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Electric Prunes,
Jandek,
Ossler,
Thee Headcoats,
Barrington Levy,
Cheater Slicks,
The Velvet Underground,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Fugs,
Ice-T,
Soulsonic Force,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Donald Byrd,
Brick,
Radiopuhelimet,
Roxy Music,
Josef K,
Main Source,
LL Cool J,
The Slits,
Drive Like Jehu,
Byron Stingily,
Scratch Acid,
Inner City,
Yazoo,
Scott Walker,
Sex Pistols,
The Evens,
Gang of Four,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.