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 Liberia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 theremin 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 Angry Samoans to the funk 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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
The Dave Clark Five,
Quantec,
Robert Hood,
MDC,
Quando Quango,
Spoonie Gee,
Saccharine Trust,
Boz Scaggs,
Supertramp,
Pole,
Q and Not U,
Joe Smooth,
David Bowie,
Cal Tjader,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Moody Blues,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Soulsonic Force,
Electric Prunes,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Amazonics,
Ronnie Foster,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Donny Hathaway,
Chris & Cosey,
Moss Icon,
Metal Thangz,
Heaven 17,
Motorama,
Arthur Verocai,
Steve Hackett,
U.S. Maple,
FM Einheit,
Jawbox,
Oblivians,
Scion,
E-Dancer,
Ornette Coleman,
Gong,
New York Dolls,
H. Thieme,
Infiniti,
Don Cherry,
Yazoo,
The Dead C,
Accadde A,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Star Department,
Brass Construction,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Tres Demented,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rufus Thomas,
Masters at Work,
John Holt,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mantronix,
The Cure,
Radio Birdman,
Roxette,
Kas Product,
Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox.
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.