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 Belize and from Manila.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare 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 Real Kids to the techno 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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Tommy Roe,
David McCallum,
Goldenarms,
Shuggie Otis,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Monks,
ABBA,
Excepter,
Q65,
Camouflage,
Tubeway Army,
Charles Mingus,
48th St. Collective,
Brand Nubian,
Brothers Johnson,
The Barracudas,
Skaos,
Graham Central Station,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Harmonia,
Fear,
Lalo Schifrin,
Laurel Aitken,
David Bowie,
Junior Murvin,
Curtis Mayfield,
Panda Bear,
Hoover,
Bluetip,
Colin Newman,
Severed Heads,
Jeff Lynne,
Cluster,
Kevin Saunderson,
Fad Gadget,
Con Funk Shun,
The Cramps,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Spoonie Gee,
Vladislav Delay,
Television Personalities,
Idris Muhammad,
Pylon,
Sex Pistols,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Fania All-Stars,
Das Ding,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jacob Miller,
The Cure,
The Smoke,
Lebanon Hanover,
Janne Schatter,
The Searchers,
Joe Finger,
Sandy B,
Suicide,
Jawbox,
Technova,
The Blackbyrds,
Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II.
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.