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 Kyrgyzstan and from Seoul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Prince Buster 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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Chrome,
The Smoke,
Terrestrial Tones,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Count Five,
The Saints,
U.S. Maple,
Can,
Tommy Roe,
Reuben Wilson,
Guru Guru,
Bobby Byrd,
Minnie Riperton,
Mars,
The Fuzztones,
The Seeds,
Monolake,
Magma,
Stockholm Monsters,
World's Most,
Tres Demented,
EPMD,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Flamin' Groovies,
Byron Stingily,
The Durutti Column,
Blancmange,
Colin Newman,
The Cowsills,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Charles Mingus,
Althea and Donna,
Nico,
Crash Course in Science,
Country Teasers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Barbara Tucker,
Grandmaster Flash,
Quadrant,
X-102,
The Busters,
Max Romeo,
The Barracudas,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
H. Thieme,
Hot Snakes,
The Kinks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Dead Boys,
Big Daddy Kane,
Danielle Patucci,
Pharoah Sanders,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Magazine,
Wings,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Khruangbin,
Spoonie Gee,
Jacques Brel,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.