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 Portugal and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ 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 Howard Jones to the disco 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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All The Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA 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 a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
John Cale,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Darondo,
Freddie Wadling,
Pantaleimon,
Arab on Radar,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pierre Henry,
The New Christs,
OOIOO,
Jeff Lynne,
Public Image Ltd.,
Aswad,
Silicon Teens,
The Motions,
Funkadelic,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Quantec,
Joensuu 1685,
New Age Steppers,
Graham Central Station,
Lungfish,
Black Moon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Beau Brummels,
Vainqueur,
The Modern Lovers,
Marvin Gaye,
Tres Demented,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dawn Penn,
The J.B.'s,
The United States of America,
Eric B and Rakim,
E-Dancer,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gang of Four,
LL Cool J,
The Smiths,
Soft Machine,
the Soft Cell,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Minor Threat,
Infiniti,
The Names,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Sonics,
Sex Pistols,
the Swans,
Barrington Levy,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Last Poets,
Massinfluence,
Desert Stars,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Isaac Hayes,
Gang Starr,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.