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 Turkmenistan and from Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Shoche to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Brothers Johnson,
The Motions,
Juan Atkins,
Scion,
Schoolly D,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bobby Byrd,
Joe Finger,
Pagans,
Colin Newman,
Spandau Ballet,
Robert Wyatt,
DNA,
David Axelrod,
Gang of Four,
Lower 48,
DJ Sneak,
Sarah Menescal,
Jawbox,
Susan Cadogan,
La Düsseldorf,
New Order,
Piero Umiliani,
Boz Scaggs,
Jacob Miller,
Maurizio,
Minutemen,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Residents,
The Raincoats,
Black Pus,
Mandrill,
Stetsasonic,
Minny Pops,
Ultra Naté,
Byron Stingily,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Marc Almond,
Average White Band,
Connie Case,
Pharoah Sanders,
Stiv Bators,
JFA,
The Move,
Young Marble Giants,
The Cramps,
Girls At Our Best!,
Harmonia,
The Searchers,
CMW,
Blossom Toes,
The Fall,
Surgeon,
Michelle Simonal,
Wasted Youth,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Dead Boys,
Lightning Bolt,
T.S.O.L.,
Anakelly,
The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight, The Shadows of Knight.
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.