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 Lesotho and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Madrid and Spokane.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Detroit Cobras to the grunge 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 Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Porter Ricks,
Visage,
Babytalk,
Sugar Minott,
Aswad,
Josef K,
Man Eating Sloth,
Johnny Osbourne,
Malaria!,
Khruangbin,
Ken Boothe,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kenny Larkin,
Procol Harum,
Outsiders,
Fugazi,
Nik Kershaw,
Gang Green,
Section 25,
The Vogues,
Colin Newman,
Dark Day,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Half Japanese,
Lee Hazlewood,
Max Romeo,
the Sonics,
the Normal,
Public Enemy,
T. Rex,
UT,
Letta Mbulu,
Sällskapet,
Eric B and Rakim,
Los Fastidios,
The Red Krayola,
Pole,
Jacques Brel,
Lightning Bolt,
Aaron Thompson,
Henry Cow,
CMW,
The Gladiators,
The Gun Club,
Cameo,
Fela Kuti,
Wolf Eyes,
Lalann,
Altered Images,
Nation of Ulysses,
Popol Vuh,
Cybotron,
Ice-T,
Godley & Creme,
Judy Mowatt,
Das Ding,
The Beau Brummels,
Eurythmics,
Yusef Lateef,
Negative Approach,
Blossom Toes,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.