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 Netherlands and from Manchester.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lille.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Fall to the punk 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 The Offenders. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Make Up record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Popol Vuh,
Monolake,
Carl Craig,
Black Moon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lungfish,
The Stooges,
Surgeon,
EPMD,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Faraquet,
Barry Ungar,
Iggy Pop,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Circle Jerks,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Dave Clark Five,
K-Klass,
10cc,
New York Dolls,
Flash Fearless,
Sällskapet,
T.S.O.L.,
Scion,
Tomorrow,
Pantytec,
June Days,
The Gun Club,
The Five Americans,
Man Eating Sloth,
Todd Rundgren,
Marmalade,
Livin' Joy,
Angry Samoans,
World's Most,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Althea and Donna,
The Raincoats,
Jacques Brel,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dead Boys,
Young Marble Giants,
Bobby Sherman,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eric Copeland,
Subhumans,
Y Pants,
Stetsasonic,
Faust,
The Buckinghams,
The Doors,
Marvin Gaye,
The Velvet Underground,
Sight & Sound,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.