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 Bangladesh and from Halifax.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Outsiders to the dance 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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
The Motions,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joey Negro,
Severed Heads,
Alphaville,
Alton Ellis,
The Fortunes,
Mark Hollis,
Don Cherry,
Juan Atkins,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Absolute Body Control,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eurythmics,
Excepter,
Prince Buster,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bobby Hutcherson,
MDC,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
June of 44,
The New Christs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Banda Bassotti,
Spoonie Gee,
The Fuzztones,
Donny Hathaway,
The Monks,
Theoretical Girls,
The Move,
Cymande,
The Remains,
The Saints,
Flipper,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Infiniti,
Carl Craig,
New York Dolls,
Index,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bush Tetras,
Lyres,
The Black Dice,
Bauhaus,
Nation of Ulysses,
Flash Fearless,
Skriet,
Joy Division,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ten City,
Deepchord,
The Cowsills,
Procol Harum,
Hot Snakes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lower 48,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.