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 Canada and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Boz Scaggs to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Saints. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grauzone record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Radiopuhelimet,
Slave,
Glenn Branca,
Technova,
The Kinks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nas,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Yellowson,
Duran Duran,
The Skatalites,
Livin' Joy,
Althea and Donna,
The Associates,
Charles Mingus,
Ice-T,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Niagra,
Lalann,
Alphaville,
Judy Mowatt,
The Remains,
Mission of Burma,
Soft Machine,
Harry Pussy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
MDC,
Massinfluence,
Rosa Yemen,
The United States of America,
Todd Rundgren,
The Slackers,
U.S. Maple,
Thee Headcoats,
Don Cherry,
Dual Sessions,
Nick Fraelich,
Los Fastidios,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kaleidoscope,
Marc Almond,
Scratch Acid,
The Five Americans,
Peter & Gordon,
Thompson Twins,
Altered Images,
48th St. Collective,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sonny Sharrock,
Magazine,
Dark Day,
Rapeman,
Funkadelic,
Little Man,
Excepter,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Outsiders,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Boz Scaggs,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.