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 Austria and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eurythmics to the techno 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 Easy Going. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Alison Limerick,
Barrington Levy,
Sällskapet,
10cc,
Minutemen,
The Gories,
Ultra Naté,
Maleditus Sound,
Prince Buster,
Lower 48,
The Angels of Light,
Jesper Dahlback,
Newcleus,
The Litter,
The Index,
Subhumans,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Slackers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Joe Smooth,
Sex Pistols,
Ice-T,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Drive Like Jehu,
Grauzone,
Lindisfarne,
Los Fastidios,
The Pretty Things,
Severed Heads,
The United States of America,
Nick Fraelich,
Liliput,
Easy Going,
Adolescents,
H. Thieme,
MDC,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
U.S. Maple,
Danielle Patucci,
Lou Christie,
the Slits,
The Busters,
Lalo Schifrin,
Jawbox,
Erasure,
The Fire Engines,
Rapeman,
Harpers Bizarre,
Spoonie Gee,
Eve St. Jones,
Negative Approach,
Marc Almond,
Shuggie Otis,
Bluetip,
the Swans,
Ponytail,
Accadde A,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Josef K,
The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers.
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.