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 Syria and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 Spokane 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lightning Bolt 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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Todd Rundgren,
Kerri Chandler,
Hoover,
Black Pus,
Von Mondo,
Chris Corsano,
Gastr Del Sol,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Count Five,
10cc,
Slick Rick,
Depeche Mode,
Mantronix,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fat Boys,
Simply Red,
Sixth Finger,
Oblivians,
Ohio Players,
Matthew Bourne,
Los Fastidios,
Inner City,
Icehouse,
Audionom,
Lungfish,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sällskapet,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Roger Hodgson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bush Tetras,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Barry Ungar,
These Immortal Souls,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
EPMD,
Procol Harum,
Panda Bear,
Bobby Sherman,
Nation of Ulysses,
Boz Scaggs,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Harry Pussy,
Eve St. Jones,
The Buckinghams,
The Pretty Things,
Brand Nubian,
T.S.O.L.,
Scientists,
The Cure,
The Mummies,
Moby Grape,
Excepter,
Minutemen,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sex Pistols,
Robert Görl,
John Foxx,
Kevin Saunderson,
Piero Umiliani,
The United States of America,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.