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 Nicaragua and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Eve St. Jones to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Kurtis Blow,
The Offenders,
Inner City,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Avey Tare,
Deakin,
Archie Shepp,
Nick Fraelich,
Maleditus Sound,
Bill Near,
the Human League,
PIL,
Yaz,
The Trojans,
David McCallum,
Connie Case,
Cheater Slicks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Fall,
James White and The Blacks,
Magma,
The Seeds,
Franke,
Con Funk Shun,
The Gap Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
Deepchord,
Dave Gahan,
K-Klass,
Ituana,
Theoretical Girls,
Ten City,
Zero Boys,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Oblivians,
Shuggie Otis,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Music Machine,
Glenn Branca,
Sight & Sound,
Marine Girls,
the Slits,
Morten Harket,
Nation of Ulysses,
Metal Thangz,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Tubeway Army,
Unrelated Segments,
Harmonia,
Mr. Review,
The Sound,
Infiniti,
Amazonics,
These Immortal Souls,
Michelle Simonal,
Eddi Front,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Vogues,
Mars,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.