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 Indonesia and from New York.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 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 The New Christs to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Age Steppers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
Yusef Lateef,
Intrusion,
Aaron Thompson,
Cameo,
Connie Case,
Barclay James Harvest,
Goldenarms,
Wolf Eyes,
Bluetip,
Y Pants,
Eve St. Jones,
Sex Pistols,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Von Mondo,
Piero Umiliani,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
ABC,
The Moleskins,
Eric Dolphy,
Rotary Connection,
Flamin' Groovies,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Music Machine,
Arthur Verocai,
Theoretical Girls,
Radiopuhelimet,
Dawn Penn,
Crime,
Visage,
The Wake,
Neu!,
The Vogues,
Nas,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Television Personalities,
the Swans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Avey Tare,
Skriet,
Moss Icon,
Minnie Riperton,
Throbbing Gristle,
Joe Finger,
Sunsets and Hearts,
KRS-One,
Ken Boothe,
Crooked Eye,
Simply Red,
Warsaw,
Trumans Water,
Stereo Dub,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Sisters of Mercy,
EPMD,
Animal Collective,
Todd Rundgren,
Livin' Joy,
Agent Orange,
Metal Thangz,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.