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 Mauritania and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ 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 Eddi Front to the dance 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All 10cc tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gastr Del Sol 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Zapp,
Jacques Brel,
Desert Stars,
Mary Jane Girls,
Buzzcocks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Todd Terry,
Sixth Finger,
The Cowsills,
The Real Kids,
Sly & The Family Stone,
OOIOO,
Tubeway Army,
Joe Smooth,
Electric Prunes,
Fugazi,
Neu!,
Goldenarms,
Sandy B,
The United States of America,
Boz Scaggs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Absolute Body Control,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Modern Lovers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nico,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pylon,
Scrapy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Monolake,
Panda Bear,
B.T. Express,
Nirvana,
Ludus,
Chrome,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lou Reed,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Saints,
the Normal,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Surgeon,
Intrusion,
Idris Muhammad,
Wasted Youth,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Inner City,
Newcleus,
The Sonics,
Patti Smith,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Prince Buster,
Andrew Hill,
Metal Thangz,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Faraquet,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.