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 Netherlands and from Portland.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Lou Reed to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every CMW record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grey Daturas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Tom Boy,
The Move,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wolf Eyes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Deepchord,
Massinfluence,
Delta 5,
Eric Copeland,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Panda Bear,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Red Krayola,
Nation of Ulysses,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jacob Miller,
Severed Heads,
Siglo XX,
Jeff Mills,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
This Heat,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Fall,
Suburban Knight,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gang of Four,
Porter Ricks,
The Divine Comedy,
Tears for Fears,
T.S.O.L.,
Second Layer,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Avey Tare,
Swell Maps,
Babytalk,
Soft Cell,
Lucky Dragons,
Marshall Jefferson,
Robert Wyatt,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The American Breed,
The Neon Judgement,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
AZ,
Sonny Sharrock,
Moby Grape,
The Sisters of Mercy,
48th St. Collective,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Yellowson,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Blake Baxter,
Maleditus Sound,
The Searchers,
Brothers Johnson,
Urselle,
Ten City,
Cybotron,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.