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 El Salvador and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 arpeggiator 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 Youth Brigade to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oblivians,
B.T. Express,
Organ,
Scrapy,
Lyres,
Jerry's Kids,
Tomorrow,
The Fugs,
Suburban Knight,
Popol Vuh,
Tears for Fears,
Hot Snakes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Blackbyrds,
Heaven 17,
Suicide,
Qualms,
T. Rex,
Brick,
Sexual Harrassment,
AZ,
Robert Wyatt,
Von Mondo,
The Motions,
Godley & Creme,
Freddie Wadling,
Delon & Dalcan,
Girls At Our Best!,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Easy Going,
Severed Heads,
Q and Not U,
R.M.O.,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Eve St. Jones,
Motorama,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Harry Pussy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Aloha Tigers,
Massinfluence,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jandek,
Intrusion,
David Bowie,
Flash Fearless,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Letta Mbulu,
Bill Wells,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Index,
Ultravox,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Zero Boys,
T.S.O.L.,
The Smiths,
Scion,
Index,
Rites of Spring,
Yazoo,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.