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 Vietnam 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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Woodstock.
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 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 The Star Department to the rap 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Porter Ricks,
Colin Newman,
Lucky Dragons,
Rekid,
Minnie Riperton,
The Dead C,
Q and Not U,
Bootsy Collins,
Peter and Kerry,
Interpol,
Graham Central Station,
Aswad,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bauhaus,
Black Flag,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Fania All-Stars,
Black Bananas,
Radiopuhelimet,
Absolute Body Control,
Main Source,
Gichy Dan,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Nirvana,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gang of Four,
The Pretty Things,
Kerrie Biddell,
Darondo,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bobby Womack,
Man Parrish,
Blancmange,
Gabor Szabo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bad Manners,
Masters at Work,
John Foxx,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Gap Band,
Suicide,
Royal Trux,
Deadbeat,
The Happenings,
John Holt,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Flash Fearless,
Flipper,
The Buckinghams,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Fortunes,
Audionom,
Marine Girls,
Quando Quango,
Rod Modell,
the Germs,
Adolescents,
David Bowie,
The Music Machine,
Sex Pistols,
Robert Wyatt,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.