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 the UAE and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Associates to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rod Modell,
Mo-Dettes,
Grey Daturas,
Trumans Water,
Cal Tjader,
CMW,
ABBA,
The Fortunes,
Marine Girls,
Whodini,
Blossom Toes,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Happenings,
The Doobie Brothers,
Morten Harket,
Pole,
Ponytail,
The Divine Comedy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Hoover,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Malaria!,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
LL Cool J,
Rakim,
48th St. Collective,
The American Breed,
Derrick Morgan,
Audionom,
Black Moon,
Magma,
Altered Images,
DJ Style,
Dual Sessions,
FM Einheit,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Symarip,
Cecil Taylor,
Kaleidoscope,
Television,
Angry Samoans,
Skriet,
T. Rex,
These Immortal Souls,
Soulsonic Force,
The Trojans,
The Selecter,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pylon,
Graham Central Station,
Rekid,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lindisfarne,
Al Stewart,
Mark Hollis,
Zapp,
Eric Dolphy,
Bobby Sherman,
Marc Almond,
Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson.
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.