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 Hungary and from Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb 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 Altered Images to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bill Near. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
Bill Wells,
The Slackers,
The Red Krayola,
Althea and Donna,
Gong,
Parry Music,
Marmalade,
Rapeman,
Country Joe & The Fish,
James White and The Blacks,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Martian,
Pussy Galore,
The Toasters,
Warsaw,
R.M.O.,
Skaos,
Darondo,
Connie Case,
10cc,
Harry Pussy,
Blancmange,
Mission of Burma,
Faust,
Kas Product,
K-Klass,
Marcia Griffiths,
Junior Murvin,
Flash Fearless,
Brothers Johnson,
Outsiders,
Cymande,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cheater Slicks,
The Blackbyrds,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
A Certain Ratio,
Lyres,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Selecter,
Big Daddy Kane,
John Coltrane,
Todd Rundgren,
Severed Heads,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Glambeats Corp.,
Can,
Minutemen,
The Knickerbockers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Schoolly D,
Clear Light,
Second Layer,
Theoretical Girls,
The Cowsills,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Electric Prunes,
Mad Mike,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Chrome,
Gang Gang Dance,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.