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 Israel and from Bologna.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 New York Dolls to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Sparks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Von Mondo 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 a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Maleditus Sound,
Neu!,
Jacques Brel,
The Durutti Column,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ossler,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fear,
The Dead C,
the Sonics,
Darondo,
Das Ding,
UT,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
D'Angelo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Johnny Clarke,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tears for Fears,
Altered Images,
The Leaves,
Kurtis Blow,
Laurel Aitken,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Toasters,
Model 500,
Interpol,
Mr. Review,
Lee Hazlewood,
Funky Four + One,
Rosa Yemen,
Y Pants,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Coltrane,
June of 44,
Essential Logic,
Henry Cow,
MC5,
The Five Americans,
Pagans,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Kinks,
Pantytec,
Crispian St. Peters,
CMW,
James White and The Blacks,
Eddi Front,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bob Dylan,
Severed Heads,
Urselle,
K-Klass,
Jeff Mills,
La Düsseldorf,
Half Japanese,
Boogie Down Productions,
Hardrive,
Jandek,
Joy Division,
Bobby Womack,
Chrome,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.