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 Solomon Islands and from Columbus.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the marimba 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 Howard Jones to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
Moss Icon,
Pierre Henry,
Lou Christie,
Leonard Cohen,
Davy DMX,
Whodini,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
CMW,
Joe Finger,
Hashim,
Sister Nancy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Zapp,
Robert Wyatt,
Lower 48,
Laurel Aitken,
Parry Music,
The Gun Club,
The Standells,
The Index,
Smog,
Con Funk Shun,
The Gladiators,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Joyce Sims,
Sam Rivers,
Black Sheep,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Residents,
E-Dancer,
Rod Modell,
Boz Scaggs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sun City Girls,
Hardrive,
Eric Copeland,
Blossom Toes,
Crash Course in Science,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Blues Magoos,
Warsaw,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bush Tetras,
X-Ray Spex,
Malaria!,
Swell Maps,
Aloha Tigers,
The Seeds,
Gong,
Neu!,
Idris Muhammad,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Velvet Underground,
John Cale,
Boredoms,
Quantec,
Lindisfarne,
Michelle Simonal,
The Modern Lovers,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.