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 Malaysia and from Salvador.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the sitar 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 The New Christs to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Roxy Music,
Ice-T,
Schoolly D,
Icehouse,
Dorothy Ashby,
Donny Hathaway,
Alton Ellis,
AZ,
The Tremeloes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Byron Stingily,
Scientists,
Ronnie Foster,
The Black Dice,
Roxette,
Eddi Front,
The Blues Magoos,
Freddie Wadling,
Fela Kuti,
Marine Girls,
The Mummies,
Khruangbin,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Delon & Dalcan,
R.M.O.,
Vladislav Delay,
Lou Christie,
Black Moon,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Agitation Free,
Severed Heads,
Kerri Chandler,
OOIOO,
Jerry's Kids,
Zapp,
Q65,
Aloha Tigers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Depeche Mode,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sun City Girls,
Lee Hazlewood,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Moby Grape,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Toni Rubio,
Rapeman,
The Searchers,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Electric Prunes,
Arthur Verocai,
Stetsasonic,
The Blackbyrds,
the Bar-Kays,
Faraquet,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Lightning Bolt,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lou Reed,
Skriet,
The Residents,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.