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 Mongolia and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the theremin 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 Heaven 17 to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Depeche Mode,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kenny Larkin,
Negative Approach,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Matthew Bourne,
The Human League,
The Buckinghams,
Quantec,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bill Near,
Black Flag,
Rekid,
Severed Heads,
June of 44,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The United States of America,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
E-Dancer,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ponytail,
The Star Department,
Stockholm Monsters,
Excepter,
Marvin Gaye,
The Walker Brothers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mission of Burma,
Soulsonic Force,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sun Ra,
Terry Callier,
Kerri Chandler,
Howard Jones,
Judy Mowatt,
Make Up,
Circle Jerks,
Freddie Wadling,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mantronix,
New Age Steppers,
Wasted Youth,
Derrick Morgan,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Y Pants,
The Trojans,
JFA,
Scion,
Motorama,
Masters at Work,
John Coltrane,
Unwound,
Pylon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roy Ayers,
Bobby Womack,
Rosa Yemen,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.