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 Cambodia 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 L. Decosne to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Monochrome Set. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald 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 techno 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 mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
The J.B.'s,
Anakelly,
Rapeman,
The Golliwogs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Angels of Light,
Bill Wells,
Gang Gang Dance,
Oneida,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gastr Del Sol,
Suicide,
Mad Mike,
Deadbeat,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Moody Blues,
Tres Demented,
Chris Corsano,
The Cramps,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jandek,
CMW,
Agitation Free,
Sparks,
Grey Daturas,
Maleditus Sound,
The Dave Clark Five,
Michelle Simonal,
Index,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
June of 44,
Tears for Fears,
Quando Quango,
Metal Thangz,
the Normal,
Pantytec,
The Litter,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Harmonia,
Brothers Johnson,
Little Man,
Fat Boys,
Erykah Badu,
Franke,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Mary Jane Girls,
Chrome,
MDC,
Stiv Bators,
Scrapy,
Marcia Griffiths,
Suburban Knight,
Terrestrial Tones,
Swans,
Theoretical Girls,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Moby Grape,
Fela Kuti,
Quantec,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott.
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.