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 Saudi Arabia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Fortunes 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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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 Kinks,
Accadde A,
the Slits,
The Durutti Column,
The Invisible,
Arthur Verocai,
Electric Prunes,
Saccharine Trust,
Half Japanese,
Max Romeo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Excepter,
June of 44,
Eve St. Jones,
Ludus,
Pussy Galore,
The Red Krayola,
David McCallum,
Warsaw,
Barrington Levy,
Al Stewart,
Lebanon Hanover,
Y Pants,
Fugazi,
Icehouse,
Lungfish,
The Wake,
Schoolly D,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Shadows of Knight,
Josef K,
X-Ray Spex,
Tres Demented,
Essential Logic,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Depeche Mode,
the Soft Cell,
Frankie Knuckles,
Heaven 17,
Barclay James Harvest,
Tommy Roe,
Marine Girls,
Severed Heads,
Sugar Minott,
the Fania All-Stars,
ABC,
Soul II Soul,
Yellowson,
Los Fastidios,
The Gladiators,
Nik Kershaw,
The Searchers,
The J.B.'s,
Liliput,
Pylon,
Easy Going,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Clear Light,
Chrome,
Sex Pistols,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Blake Baxter,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.