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 Liberia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Trumans Water to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arcadia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The American Breed,
These Immortal Souls,
The Saints,
Bobby Byrd,
One Last Wish,
Terry Callier,
Rakim,
New Age Steppers,
Fad Gadget,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bobby Womack,
Carl Craig,
the Bar-Kays,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Smog,
The Divine Comedy,
Dorothy Ashby,
The J.B.'s,
The Fall,
Barrington Levy,
Prince Buster,
Monks,
Deakin,
Darondo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Velvet Underground,
Organ,
Pierre Henry,
Lalann,
Pet Shop Boys,
Swell Maps,
Half Japanese,
The Pop Group,
David Axelrod,
Tomorrow,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lebanon Hanover,
Marcia Griffiths,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
David Bowie,
Masters at Work,
Television,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marc Almond,
The Star Department,
Dead Boys,
Sparks,
Buzzcocks,
Spandau Ballet,
Cybotron,
Oneida,
Parry Music,
Tommy Roe,
John Cale,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.