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 Saudi Arabia and from Tehran.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin 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 Grey Daturas to the punk 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 The Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crooked Eye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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?
Wire,
The Gladiators,
Qualms,
Toni Rubio,
Nation of Ulysses,
Connie Case,
Sparks,
B.T. Express,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Sound,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Offenders,
Gang of Four,
Underground Resistance,
The Star Department,
Brass Construction,
Yusef Lateef,
Monolake,
Khruangbin,
Vainqueur,
Deadbeat,
Livin' Joy,
Jeff Mills,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Shoche,
Das Ding,
Japan,
Smog,
Spandau Ballet,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kool Moe Dee,
Davy DMX,
Gerry Rafferty,
Wally Richardson,
Zero Boys,
The Gun Club,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Skatalites,
The Gories,
Tommy Roe,
Henry Cow,
Hot Snakes,
Bronski Beat,
Mary Jane Girls,
Godley & Creme,
The Angels of Light,
Roy Ayers,
Derrick Morgan,
Lalo Schifrin,
Fat Boys,
The Durutti Column,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Joy Division,
Lyres,
EPMD,
Bobby Womack,
Easy Going,
The Five Americans,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.