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 Korea South and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Rapeman to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills 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 guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
La Düsseldorf,
The Walker Brothers,
Anthony Braxton,
The Fire Engines,
U.S. Maple,
T. Rex,
Henry Cow,
Rosa Yemen,
Tubeway Army,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
New York Dolls,
Sexual Harrassment,
Marvin Gaye,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Knickerbockers,
Aloha Tigers,
Cal Tjader,
Erasure,
Fluxion,
Andrew Hill,
The Smoke,
EPMD,
The Stooges,
Carl Craig,
Whodini,
The Saints,
Pharoah Sanders,
Crime,
Gregory Isaacs,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Slackers,
Ten City,
Girls At Our Best!,
Adolescents,
Sight & Sound,
Donald Byrd,
Ultra Naté,
The Star Department,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Last Poets,
The Durutti Column,
Thee Headcoats,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pantytec,
Deepchord,
The Moody Blues,
The Barracudas,
Duran Duran,
Unwound,
Symarip,
Mo-Dettes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Yaz,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kurtis Blow,
Bush Tetras,
Crooked Eye,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.