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 Turkmenistan and from Jakarta.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Blues Magoos to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Faust. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Khruangbin,
The Gories,
The Barracudas,
Lou Reed,
Radio Birdman,
DNA,
Rapeman,
Peter and Kerry,
Royal Trux,
Kayak,
Los Fastidios,
New Order,
LL Cool J,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Half Japanese,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ultra Naté,
Eurythmics,
The Beau Brummels,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wally Richardson,
Robert Görl,
Nico,
Scion,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Throbbing Gristle,
Robert Wyatt,
China Crisis,
The Cowsills,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Stooges,
MDC,
The Velvet Underground,
Sister Nancy,
Severed Heads,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eden Ahbez,
Youth Brigade,
Traffic Nightmare,
Maleditus Sound,
Rakim,
X-102,
Fat Boys,
Brass Construction,
Liliput,
A Certain Ratio,
Sonny Sharrock,
Echospace,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fluxion,
Pulsallama,
The Moody Blues,
Metal Thangz,
The Mummies,
Country Joe & The Fish,
a-ha,
Charles Mingus,
Alice Coltrane,
Pussy Galore,
Silicon Teens,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.