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 Nauru and from Accra.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 K-Klass to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Severed Heads,
Sex Pistols,
The Fall,
F. McDonald,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Shoche,
Spandau Ballet,
Swell Maps,
Index,
Nick Fraelich,
The Dave Clark Five,
Duran Duran,
Jandek,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Camberwell Now,
Cameo,
Lower 48,
the Fania All-Stars,
Alice Coltrane,
Amazonics,
Lindisfarne,
Scientists,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Slits,
The Count Five,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dawn Penn,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Sonics,
K-Klass,
The Human League,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cheater Slicks,
Ohio Players,
Stockholm Monsters,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sarah Menescal,
Jeru the Damaja,
Moby Grape,
Kerrie Biddell,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Knickerbockers,
Qualms,
Cymande,
Das Ding,
Maurizio,
Jerry's Kids,
Harmonia,
James Chance & The Contortions,
MC5,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Swans,
June of 44,
The Shadows of Knight,
DJ Style,
Blake Baxter,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.