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 Maldives and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Young Rascals to the rock 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
The Electric Prunes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jandek,
Chris Corsano,
Subhumans,
Sister Nancy,
MDC,
Monks,
The Music Machine,
Gang Green,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Youth Brigade,
Grey Daturas,
Sexual Harrassment,
Neu!,
Thee Headcoats,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jacques Brel,
Funky Four + One,
Minutemen,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Cowsills,
The Wake,
Absolute Body Control,
The Mojo Men,
Von Mondo,
the Germs,
Ituana,
Skriet,
The Zeros,
The Kinks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Juan Atkins,
Los Fastidios,
Funkadelic,
The Seeds,
Underground Resistance,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Black Dice,
Erykah Badu,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lower 48,
Cluster,
The Detroit Cobras,
Boz Scaggs,
Harmonia,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pierre Henry,
The Walker Brothers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Black Moon,
Chrome,
a-ha,
Nico,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fear,
Siglo XX,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pole,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.