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 Pakistan and from Bologna.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 48th St. Collective to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a China Crisis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Matthew Bourne,
Gichy Dan,
Peter and Kerry,
Sonic Youth,
Yusef Lateef,
Dead Boys,
Circle Jerks,
Reagan Youth,
Technova,
The Martian,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Hot Snakes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Girls At Our Best!,
Warsaw,
Make Up,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Audionom,
One Last Wish,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Silicon Teens,
Brick,
LL Cool J,
Jeff Mills,
Parry Music,
Prince Buster,
Von Mondo,
The Dirtbombs,
Altered Images,
The Happenings,
Monks,
Black Pus,
Pole,
Flash Fearless,
Maleditus Sound,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Evens,
the Normal,
PIL,
Godley & Creme,
Gang of Four,
Sixth Finger,
Scott Walker,
Echospace,
Skriet,
Flamin' Groovies,
Porter Ricks,
Rosa Yemen,
Glambeats Corp.,
Aswad,
Throbbing Gristle,
Magma,
The Residents,
Laurel Aitken,
Rufus Thomas,
The Move,
ABBA,
Symarip,
Hoover,
U.S. Maple,
The American Breed,
Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection.
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.