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 Laos and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 synthesizer 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 Gil Scott Heron to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Dorothy Ashby,
LL Cool J,
Outsiders,
Ronnie Foster,
Alison Limerick,
Piero Umiliani,
Bluetip,
Marmalade,
Intrusion,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Scratch Acid,
Television,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Tremeloes,
The Associates,
Johnny Clarke,
The Dead C,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pierre Henry,
Niagra,
Theoretical Girls,
Bauhaus,
Electric Prunes,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Byron Stingily,
Suicide,
Mo-Dettes,
Reagan Youth,
cv313,
Ossler,
Heaven 17,
World's Most,
Gong,
Alice Coltrane,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Iggy Pop,
Eden Ahbez,
Deepchord,
Hoover,
Moss Icon,
Hardrive,
Curtis Mayfield,
Can,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Donald Byrd,
Shoche,
Ten City,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Fortunes,
The Smoke,
Dead Boys,
Radio Birdman,
Steve Hackett,
Agitation Free,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gladiators,
John Foxx,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.