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 Croatia and from Salvador.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Divine Comedy to the punk 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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-102,
Cybotron,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cluster,
Soft Machine,
The Tremeloes,
The Slits,
Fear,
The Golliwogs,
Fugazi,
Jacques Brel,
Todd Terry,
Second Layer,
B.T. Express,
Make Up,
Maurizio,
Minny Pops,
Pet Shop Boys,
Radio Birdman,
Dark Day,
Jerry's Kids,
Drive Like Jehu,
Michelle Simonal,
Hot Snakes,
The Kinks,
The Red Krayola,
The Residents,
Agent Orange,
Tim Buckley,
Angry Samoans,
Slave,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Human League,
Tropical Tobacco,
Marshall Jefferson,
Faust,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Leaves,
Cymande,
L. Decosne,
Warsaw,
Bill Near,
Lebanon Hanover,
John Cale,
Gabor Szabo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
48th St. Collective,
Ken Boothe,
The Doors,
The Gories,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Basic Channel,
The Move,
8 Eyed Spy,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The New Christs,
Aural Exciters,
The Victims,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.