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 Bolivia 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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Interpol to the rock 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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a CMW record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Radio Birdman,
Junior Murvin,
UT,
Youth Brigade,
Althea and Donna,
The Fall,
Bill Wells,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Deakin,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ohio Players,
John Holt,
One Last Wish,
Wally Richardson,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gichy Dan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Quando Quango,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joy Division,
The Searchers,
Fat Boys,
John Lydon,
The Modern Lovers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bob Dylan,
Technova,
The Beau Brummels,
Minnie Riperton,
The Sonics,
Eli Mardock,
Maleditus Sound,
Sister Nancy,
Traffic Nightmare,
H. Thieme,
Andrew Hill,
The Motions,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
10cc,
The Monochrome Set,
Aaron Thompson,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marshall Jefferson,
Alice Coltrane,
The Seeds,
Yazoo,
ABC,
Nils Olav,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sugar Minott,
Vladislav Delay,
Tomorrow,
Erykah Badu,
Letta Mbulu,
A Certain Ratio,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.