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 Afghanistan and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the rock 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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Leonard Cohen 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
Moss Icon,
Interpol,
Joyce Sims,
Bobby Womack,
Ronnie Foster,
Liliput,
Visage,
Severed Heads,
Danielle Patucci,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Harry Pussy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Arthur Verocai,
Rod Modell,
Jacques Brel,
Panda Bear,
Piero Umiliani,
The Walker Brothers,
Barrington Levy,
Lower 48,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Neon Judgement,
Curtis Mayfield,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Holt,
Rhythm & Sound,
Yusef Lateef,
Pylon,
MDC,
Ronan,
Alton Ellis,
Girls At Our Best!,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Leonard Cohen,
Althea and Donna,
Sandy B,
Gong,
Spandau Ballet,
Bush Tetras,
Ludus,
Scientists,
Pulsallama,
Bobby Sherman,
Johnny Osbourne,
Charles Mingus,
Public Enemy,
Skriet,
Harmonia,
Schoolly D,
Marvin Gaye,
Radio Birdman,
Sun Ra,
Outsiders,
Hot Snakes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Skaos,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
L. Decosne,
Joensuu 1685,
Shuggie Otis,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.