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 Yemen and from Bremen.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin 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 Knickerbockers to the disco 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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Joyce Sims,
The Mojo Men,
Ornette Coleman,
Echospace,
Bobby Sherman,
Wasted Youth,
the Bar-Kays,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Blues Magoos,
Fluxion,
Television,
Siglo XX,
Charles Mingus,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pere Ubu,
Alton Ellis,
Susan Cadogan,
Schoolly D,
China Crisis,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Archie Shepp,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
8 Eyed Spy,
Porter Ricks,
Los Fastidios,
Lakeside,
The Fire Engines,
Eddi Front,
La Düsseldorf,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Shuggie Otis,
Vainqueur,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crash Course in Science,
Neil Young,
DJ Sneak,
Marmalade,
The Moody Blues,
The Selecter,
Kenny Larkin,
Japan,
John Holt,
Crooked Eye,
Depeche Mode,
Gong,
Jandek,
Juan Atkins,
Sex Pistols,
Ronnie Foster,
Lindisfarne,
The Doors,
Skriet,
The Techniques,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Stooges,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.