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 Philippines and from Beijing.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Electric Prunes to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cosmic Jokers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro 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?
Terry Callier,
Can,
The Velvet Underground,
The Moleskins,
Toni Rubio,
Ken Boothe,
The Count Five,
Reagan Youth,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Skriet,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nation of Ulysses,
Donny Hathaway,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nick Fraelich,
The Misunderstood,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Smoke,
MDC,
Dual Sessions,
Scrapy,
Scan 7,
The Victims,
The Saints,
Ice-T,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Bananas,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Chrome,
Roxy Music,
Rekid,
X-101,
Tommy Roe,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Fortunes,
China Crisis,
Excepter,
Joy Division,
Mary Jane Girls,
Alison Limerick,
Average White Band,
Crash Course in Science,
Howard Jones,
Qualms,
B.T. Express,
Ohio Players,
Electric Prunes,
The Skatalites,
Tres Demented,
Q65,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Porter Ricks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kaleidoscope,
The Associates,
Radiohead,
Lee Hazlewood,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.