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 Uzbekistan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Johannesburg.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Metal Thangz to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Urselle. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Pulsallama,
Minny Pops,
Grey Daturas,
Agent Orange,
Hot Snakes,
Monks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tears for Fears,
Stiv Bators,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Barracudas,
Lyres,
Suicide,
Heaven 17,
Jeff Mills,
Eric Copeland,
The Monks,
Amon Düül II,
Groovy Waters,
The Fugs,
Gang Green,
Dark Day,
Flash Fearless,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Girls At Our Best!,
Public Enemy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ice-T,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Glenn Branca,
Suburban Knight,
Pole,
Banda Bassotti,
Tommy Roe,
Pagans,
R.M.O.,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kayak,
the Sonics,
Popol Vuh,
Carl Craig,
Adolescents,
X-Ray Spex,
Cameo,
Erasure,
Aaron Thompson,
The Star Department,
Stereo Dub,
Jeru the Damaja,
Delon & Dalcan,
Faraquet,
Laurel Aitken,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Seeds,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bad Manners,
The Gladiators,
Mad Mike,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Yazoo,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.