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 Grenada and from Mumbai.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 güiro 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 Pole to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Count Five,
The Doobie Brothers,
Skarface,
Suburban Knight,
Marc Almond,
Deadbeat,
Lyres,
Surgeon,
ABBA,
Byron Stingily,
Eric Dolphy,
Jeff Mills,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Fall,
Flash Fearless,
Oneida,
The Vogues,
Sister Nancy,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Circle Jerks,
Anakelly,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
H. Thieme,
Patti Smith,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The New Christs,
Kas Product,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Public Enemy,
Aaron Thompson,
Franke,
Robert Wyatt,
Barry Ungar,
Skriet,
Q and Not U,
Nation of Ulysses,
Clear Light,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bang On A Can,
The Litter,
Lightning Bolt,
John Lydon,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Birthday Party,
Dead Boys,
The Smiths,
Make Up,
The Fugs,
Todd Rundgren,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sparks,
Outsiders,
Metal Thangz,
Joe Finger,
New Order,
8 Eyed Spy,
Donald Byrd,
June of 44,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.