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 Malta and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Can. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented 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 sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Visage,
Das Ding,
The Evens,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Josef K,
The Associates,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Howard Jones,
Man Eating Sloth,
Isaac Hayes,
Rosa Yemen,
Japan,
Black Flag,
Patti Smith,
The Mummies,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sexual Harrassment,
Vainqueur,
The Neon Judgement,
Agitation Free,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eurythmics,
Delta 5,
The Music Machine,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Moss Icon,
The Residents,
Bootsy Collins,
Adolescents,
Judy Mowatt,
Barbara Tucker,
Nas,
Franke,
Morten Harket,
Erasure,
Idris Muhammad,
Smog,
Pantytec,
Eli Mardock,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bill Wells,
The Searchers,
Minor Threat,
a-ha,
Alphaville,
Jacques Brel,
Echospace,
Harry Pussy,
L. Decosne,
Spandau Ballet,
June of 44,
The Golliwogs,
Eric Dolphy,
The Remains,
Mad Mike,
Glambeats Corp.,
Piero Umiliani,
Angry Samoans,
Monolake, Monolake, Monolake, Monolake.
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.