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 Macedonia and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Jerry's Kids to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
Terry Callier,
Hashim,
Cheater Slicks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Barbara Tucker,
The Monks,
Joey Negro,
Theoretical Girls,
Bill Wells,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Byron Stingily,
Roger Hodgson,
Rites of Spring,
Blancmange,
The Selecter,
The Birthday Party,
Inner City,
Lungfish,
Sandy B,
Sound Behaviour,
Audionom,
Camouflage,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bad Manners,
Y Pants,
The Slits,
Lyres,
Echospace,
The American Breed,
Ralphi Rosario,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Red Krayola,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cameo,
Soft Machine,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Barracudas,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mandrill,
Curtis Mayfield,
Spoonie Gee,
Sonic Youth,
Al Stewart,
Neil Young,
The Shadows of Knight,
Hardrive,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Arab on Radar,
Hoover,
Maurizio,
Alton Ellis,
The New Christs,
China Crisis,
the Bar-Kays,
Vladislav Delay,
Crooked Eye,
Thee Headcoats,
Davy DMX,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.