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 Thailand and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the güiro 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the grunge 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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Stockholm Monsters,
Smog,
The Mummies,
The Residents,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tommy Roe,
Deakin,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Names,
Lower 48,
Rites of Spring,
Rapeman,
Lightning Bolt,
Leonard Cohen,
The Dirtbombs,
L. Decosne,
Crooked Eye,
Peter and Kerry,
Albert Ayler,
Severed Heads,
Bizarre Inc.,
This Heat,
The Fire Engines,
David Bowie,
The Remains,
Cameo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Harry Pussy,
The Monochrome Set,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ronnie Foster,
Kaleidoscope,
Lou Reed,
One Last Wish,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Alarm Clocks,
Quantec,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Dave Clark Five,
Isaac Hayes,
Blake Baxter,
Soft Cell,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ralphi Rosario,
Qualms,
Au Pairs,
Dave Gahan,
Alton Ellis,
B.T. Express,
the Slits,
Warsaw,
Aloha Tigers,
Eric Dolphy,
Lakeside,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kool Moe Dee,
Loose Ends,
June Days,
Lalann,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.