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 South Sudan and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Smog to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Quantec. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The United States of America,
the Slits,
Rakim,
Roy Ayers,
Judy Mowatt,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Victims,
ABC,
New Age Steppers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Harry Pussy,
Grey Daturas,
Scrapy,
The Searchers,
Soft Cell,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Can,
The Busters,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Television,
Darondo,
The Kinks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Laurel Aitken,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Al Stewart,
Scratch Acid,
Prince Buster,
Stetsasonic,
Rufus Thomas,
The Durutti Column,
Surgeon,
Porter Ricks,
The Young Rascals,
Desert Stars,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Organ,
World's Most,
Kerri Chandler,
Siglo XX,
Donny Hathaway,
The Real Kids,
The Flesh Eaters,
Crime,
Cheater Slicks,
The Gap Band,
The Human League,
The Electric Prunes,
Drexciya,
the Bar-Kays,
June of 44,
Interpol,
Saccharine Trust,
MC5,
Sarah Menescal,
Nils Olav,
Vainqueur,
Hoover,
The Pretty Things,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.