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 Brunei and from Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Silicon Teens,
Delta 5,
Trumans Water,
Amazonics,
Barbara Tucker,
The Litter,
Chris & Cosey,
Echospace,
Barry Ungar,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Last Poets,
Von Mondo,
Deakin,
The Music Machine,
Sugar Minott,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Quantec,
Tears for Fears,
The Divine Comedy,
Saccharine Trust,
Stiv Bators,
Susan Cadogan,
Sister Nancy,
Mars,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Gun Club,
Grey Daturas,
Black Sheep,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Oneida,
Pantytec,
Roxy Music,
Joey Negro,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Guru Guru,
Brass Construction,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Dual Sessions,
Crispian St. Peters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Das Ding,
Scion,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Angry Samoans,
The Slits,
Ten City,
The Cure,
Bob Dylan,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scratch Acid,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Michelle Simonal,
Carl Craig,
Minutemen,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Saints,
Malaria!,
Gichy Dan,
Mission of Burma,
Aural Exciters,
The Birthday Party,
Toni Rubio,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.