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 Equatorial Guinea and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the organ 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 Eric Dolphy to the techno 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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
Electric Prunes,
The Music Machine,
Barry Ungar,
The Moody Blues,
Shuggie Otis,
Fad Gadget,
Guru Guru,
The Stooges,
Alice Coltrane,
The J.B.'s,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Barracudas,
UT,
Faraquet,
Pagans,
Black Bananas,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marc Almond,
Deadbeat,
Dual Sessions,
Alphaville,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Maleditus Sound,
Slick Rick,
Jeru the Damaja,
Zapp,
Gang Starr,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kurtis Blow,
Pere Ubu,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Wake,
Mantronix,
Kayak,
The Star Department,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Skriet,
Lyres,
Bad Manners,
Infiniti,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crispian St. Peters,
Yaz,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pylon,
Faust,
The Evens,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Urselle,
La Düsseldorf,
U.S. Maple,
The Motions,
The Red Krayola,
The Zeros,
Kool Moe Dee,
Smog,
Severed Heads,
Aaron Thompson,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.