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 Djibouti and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lower 48 to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
The Searchers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ultra Naté,
Oneida,
The Dirtbombs,
Crispy Ambulance,
Moss Icon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Wally Richardson,
The Sonics,
Blancmange,
Mission of Burma,
Magma,
The Gap Band,
Mantronix,
Byron Stingily,
The Cowsills,
Radiohead,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fela Kuti,
the Slits,
John Coltrane,
Siglo XX,
Y Pants,
Man Eating Sloth,
Livin' Joy,
Bill Near,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Agitation Free,
Fad Gadget,
Robert Wyatt,
The Stooges,
Chris Corsano,
L. Decosne,
David Bowie,
Saccharine Trust,
Todd Rundgren,
Quadrant,
Ohio Players,
Depeche Mode,
Swell Maps,
The Black Dice,
Black Pus,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Susan Cadogan,
Graham Central Station,
The Young Rascals,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Golliwogs,
Idris Muhammad,
Steve Hackett,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
10cc,
Arab on Radar,
Cymande,
Infiniti,
Crispian St. Peters,
Barbara Tucker,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.