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 Netherlands 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and London.
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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Au Pairs to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt 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 a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
The Zeros,
Kaleidoscope,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Gap Band,
Cybotron,
Scratch Acid,
The Smoke,
Warren Ellis,
Arthur Verocai,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
ABBA,
8 Eyed Spy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sandy B,
Spoonie Gee,
Das Ding,
H. Thieme,
Robert Görl,
Kenny Larkin,
Bang On A Can,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
B.T. Express,
Lyres,
Index,
The Sonics,
Skaos,
The J.B.'s,
Hasil Adkins,
CMW,
Mission of Burma,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Animal Collective,
Al Stewart,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Roger Hodgson,
Connie Case,
Ohio Players,
Suicide,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mr. Review,
Malaria!,
Zapp,
Godley & Creme,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Traffic Nightmare,
Can,
Vladislav Delay,
Average White Band,
The Names,
UT,
EPMD,
Newcleus,
the Bar-Kays,
Brass Construction,
Stetsasonic,
Magazine,
The Slackers,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gil Scott Heron,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.