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 Iraq and from Manila.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Rod Modell to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp 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 dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
ABBA,
Crispian St. Peters,
The American Breed,
Kayak,
Unwound,
Ponytail,
Robert Hood,
The Martian,
UT,
Harmonia,
Scientists,
Q65,
Scion,
Dead Boys,
Ultra Naté,
Funkadelic,
Quando Quango,
Neu!,
Model 500,
These Immortal Souls,
Icehouse,
Scan 7,
The Music Machine,
The Fortunes,
Todd Rundgren,
Los Fastidios,
Grauzone,
Mad Mike,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Happenings,
the Human League,
Charles Mingus,
the Bar-Kays,
The Blues Magoos,
Marc Almond,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Procol Harum,
Average White Band,
Cluster,
Maurizio,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Clear Light,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jeff Mills,
DJ Style,
Henry Cow,
Nico,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Real Kids,
Kaleidoscope,
Popol Vuh,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Cure,
Barbara Tucker,
Country Teasers,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.