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 Cameroon and from Portland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Barracudas to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Normal. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Neil Young,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kerri Chandler,
The Beau Brummels,
Skriet,
Tom Boy,
Idris Muhammad,
Judy Mowatt,
Country Teasers,
Bang On A Can,
The Pop Group,
Man Parrish,
cv313,
Connie Case,
Yellowson,
The Moleskins,
Danielle Patucci,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Subhumans,
Harmonia,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Fall,
Quadrant,
Kerrie Biddell,
Khruangbin,
Mantronix,
A Certain Ratio,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Deadbeat,
Hasil Adkins,
Dave Gahan,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tim Buckley,
Godley & Creme,
Gerry Rafferty,
Davy DMX,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Index,
Porter Ricks,
Fat Boys,
Anakelly,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tomorrow,
Lightning Bolt,
Janne Schatter,
Pagans,
Eric B and Rakim,
Zapp,
The Monks,
Panda Bear,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
B.T. Express,
Public Enemy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Angry Samoans,
Visage,
Rufus Thomas,
New Order,
Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton, Minnie Riperton.
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.