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 Kiribati and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Stockholm Monsters to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kenny Larkin. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donny Hathaway,
the Association,
Ash Ra Tempel,
James White and The Blacks,
The Tremeloes,
Magma,
The J.B.'s,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sam Rivers,
the Soft Cell,
Jacques Brel,
Negative Approach,
David Bowie,
Ronan,
The Standells,
Todd Terry,
Godley & Creme,
Kerrie Biddell,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eric Copeland,
Carl Craig,
Prince Buster,
Scion,
Icehouse,
Franke,
Bobby Byrd,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Suburban Knight,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Aloha Tigers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Trumans Water,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Circle Jerks,
The Slits,
Eve St. Jones,
Fluxion,
Ludus,
Jandek,
Bauhaus,
K-Klass,
Kas Product,
Roxy Music,
Sarah Menescal,
Pylon,
Dark Day,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Fugazi,
The Real Kids,
Supertramp,
Eric Dolphy,
John Lydon,
Warsaw,
David McCallum,
Buzzcocks,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Tropical Tobacco,
Royal Trux,
Banda Bassotti,
The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas.
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.