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 Norway and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 arpeggiator 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 Carl Craig to the punk 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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Pulsallama,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Das Ding,
Amon Düül,
Scan 7,
Rod Modell,
The Velvet Underground,
June of 44,
Rufus Thomas,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lakeside,
Nik Kershaw,
F. McDonald,
L. Decosne,
Procol Harum,
Hot Snakes,
Eve St. Jones,
Gichy Dan,
Chrome,
Steve Hackett,
Altered Images,
The Selecter,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Germs,
Throbbing Gristle,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Quadrant,
Bluetip,
The Young Rascals,
Aural Exciters,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dawn Penn,
Glenn Branca,
Interpol,
Eddi Front,
Bobby Sherman,
Main Source,
Robert Hood,
The Fuzztones,
Kaleidoscope,
Funky Four + One,
Arthur Verocai,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Agent Orange,
The Mojo Men,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Al Stewart,
Erykah Badu,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Trumans Water,
One Last Wish,
The Toasters,
The Mummies,
Mark Hollis,
Masters at Work,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Duran Duran,
John Lydon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sonic Youth,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.