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 Togo and from Manila.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Ultra Naté to the techno 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
Vainqueur,
Arab on Radar,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Fugs,
Soft Cell,
Camberwell Now,
Jimmy McGriff,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
K-Klass,
The Motions,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Kinks,
D'Angelo,
Khruangbin,
X-101,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
David Bowie,
The Gladiators,
Bluetip,
Pulsallama,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Terrestrial Tones,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Howard Jones,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kerri Chandler,
Amazonics,
Piero Umiliani,
Subhumans,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Joyce Sims,
Connie Case,
The Five Americans,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Dave Gahan,
Shuggie Otis,
The Walker Brothers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Essential Logic,
Silicon Teens,
The Angels of Light,
Max Romeo,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rufus Thomas,
The Seeds,
John Foxx,
Darondo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Byron Stingily,
Nico,
Cal Tjader,
Boz Scaggs,
the Germs,
Gil Scott Heron,
Zapp,
Procol Harum,
Tears for Fears,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.