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 Bulgaria and from Tehran.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Ash Ra Tempel to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Louis and Bebe Barron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalo Schifrin,
Sparks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Tremeloes,
The Martian,
Intrusion,
The Cowsills,
a-ha,
Lou Christie,
Wally Richardson,
Silicon Teens,
Graham Central Station,
The Flesh Eaters,
CMW,
Donald Byrd,
Jawbox,
Avey Tare,
The Techniques,
The Golliwogs,
Cymande,
Cameo,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Cure,
Malaria!,
These Immortal Souls,
Essential Logic,
Neu!,
The Toasters,
Pussy Galore,
Robert Hood,
Cecil Taylor,
Can,
Oneida,
Thee Headcoats,
Quando Quango,
Rapeman,
Sällskapet,
Black Bananas,
Reuben Wilson,
Cluster,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Simply Red,
Roxette,
The Remains,
Duran Duran,
Funky Four + One,
Steve Hackett,
Dennis Brown,
Ornette Coleman,
Matthew Halsall,
Mad Mike,
Hardrive,
Nation of Ulysses,
Yusef Lateef,
June of 44,
Kerri Chandler,
Newcleus,
Gang of Four,
Bill Wells,
The Buckinghams,
The Leaves,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.