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 El Salvador and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gregory Isaacs to the techno 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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deepchord 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Electric Prunes,
48th St. Collective,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Monochrome Set,
Eddi Front,
Junior Murvin,
John Foxx,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Danielle Patucci,
Bad Manners,
Ultravox,
KRS-One,
Swans,
kango's stein massive,
Cecil Taylor,
Charles Mingus,
The Electric Prunes,
The Fugs,
Fad Gadget,
cv313,
Organ,
The Blackbyrds,
Mandrill,
The Buckinghams,
F. McDonald,
Supertramp,
The Barracudas,
The Last Poets,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Moleskins,
The Evens,
The Red Krayola,
Inner City,
Todd Rundgren,
OOIOO,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
John Holt,
the Slits,
Pole,
Scientists,
The Happenings,
Donald Byrd,
The Sonics,
the Normal,
Sound Behaviour,
Faust,
The Angels of Light,
Eden Ahbez,
Banda Bassotti,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
John Cale,
Freddie Wadling,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Velvet Underground,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sex Pistols,
Joe Smooth,
Nick Fraelich,
ABBA,
Royal Trux,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.