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 Belgium and from New York.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Walker Brothers to the jazz 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 Monochrome Set. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Easy Going record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gang Starr,
Bobby Sherman,
Scion,
Ralphi Rosario,
Basic Channel,
The Mummies,
Vladislav Delay,
The Victims,
Mr. Review,
Sun City Girls,
F. McDonald,
The New Christs,
The Neon Judgement,
Warren Ellis,
Stockholm Monsters,
World's Most,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sarah Menescal,
Pere Ubu,
Sixth Finger,
Cybotron,
Blancmange,
Babytalk,
Joensuu 1685,
The Dirtbombs,
Drive Like Jehu,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Cure,
Stereo Dub,
Juan Atkins,
E-Dancer,
Inner City,
Bill Near,
Amon Düül,
Avey Tare,
Pagans,
Rapeman,
Lungfish,
kango's stein massive,
Tim Buckley,
Goldenarms,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Janne Schatter,
Al Stewart,
Graham Central Station,
The Velvet Underground,
H. Thieme,
Section 25,
The Trojans,
Josef K,
Boz Scaggs,
June Days,
Q65,
Kool Moe Dee,
Fluxion,
Be Bop Deluxe,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Suburban Knight,
The Slackers,
Siglo XX,
Unwound,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.