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 Korea South and from Stockholm.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Tehran.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Moebius to the grunge 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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Stereo Dub,
The Modern Lovers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott Heron,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pantytec,
Harry Pussy,
The Moleskins,
The Stooges,
Donald Byrd,
Television Personalities,
Stetsasonic,
Soft Machine,
T. Rex,
The Victims,
Nico,
Iggy Pop,
Blossom Toes,
Archie Shepp,
Danielle Patucci,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lower 48,
Eden Ahbez,
Bizarre Inc.,
Blancmange,
Excepter,
The Golliwogs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Faraquet,
Black Flag,
Essential Logic,
Connie Case,
The Red Krayola,
Desert Stars,
Marc Almond,
Country Teasers,
CMW,
Model 500,
Bronski Beat,
8 Eyed Spy,
New Order,
Dark Day,
Von Mondo,
Rufus Thomas,
Sun City Girls,
Eve St. Jones,
The Smiths,
MC5,
Ten City,
Basic Channel,
The Seeds,
Quadrant,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Absolute Body Control,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ultravox,
Lebanon Hanover,
Duran Duran,
Althea and Donna,
Man Parrish,
The Fire Engines,
Camouflage,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.