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 Czech Republic and from Spokane.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Philadelphia.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Saints to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agitation Free,
The Divine Comedy,
Youth Brigade,
The Flesh Eaters,
James White and The Blacks,
Joe Smooth,
The Misunderstood,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Amazonics,
The Beau Brummels,
Junior Murvin,
Albert Ayler,
Dual Sessions,
Pole,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Organ,
Bob Dylan,
Yaz,
Arab on Radar,
Barbara Tucker,
Henry Cow,
Yusef Lateef,
Mark Hollis,
The Smoke,
Aloha Tigers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rapeman,
The Buckinghams,
Boogie Down Productions,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Graham Central Station,
Steve Hackett,
The Selecter,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scrapy,
New Age Steppers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Suburban Knight,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Darondo,
Erykah Badu,
The Toasters,
Wings,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gichy Dan,
Radio Birdman,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bootsy Collins,
Sight & Sound,
Sonny Sharrock,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Parry Music,
Minutemen,
Electric Prunes,
Inner City,
Harpers Bizarre,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Television Personalities,
Pagans,
Nico,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.