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 Rwanda and from Beijing.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Surgeon to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Black Flag. All the underground hits.
All Terrestrial Tones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Rufus Thomas,
Jeff Mills,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Pretty Things,
Jawbox,
The Fuzztones,
Gang Starr,
The Standells,
Pagans,
James White and The Blacks,
Thee Headcoats,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Maleditus Sound,
The Residents,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Toni Rubio,
Man Parrish,
The Fall,
Ronan,
Mr. Review,
Michelle Simonal,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Soul Sonic Force,
Skriet,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Coltrane,
The Tremeloes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Faust,
Mandrill,
Moby Grape,
Blancmange,
Motorama,
Marmalade,
Hashim,
Marvin Gaye,
The Angels of Light,
Nik Kershaw,
Audionom,
Don Cherry,
Stockholm Monsters,
Marc Almond,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bill Near,
Radiopuhelimet,
Easy Going,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Modern Lovers,
The Zeros,
Ultimate Spinach,
OOIOO,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Busters,
Guru Guru,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Saints,
The Grass Roots,
Quantec,
The Evens,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.