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 Russia and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Erasure to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Carl Craig. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reagan Youth,
Juan Atkins,
The Zeros,
Johnny Clarke,
Girls At Our Best!,
Anakelly,
Marvin Gaye,
Fear,
Rekid,
the Germs,
Freddie Wadling,
Lou Christie,
Junior Murvin,
Peter and Kerry,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Magazine,
Sex Pistols,
The Trojans,
Los Fastidios,
Au Pairs,
Average White Band,
Hot Snakes,
EPMD,
Blancmange,
Audionom,
John Cale,
John Coltrane,
Nick Fraelich,
Gang Starr,
kango's stein massive,
Rakim,
Arab on Radar,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Boredoms,
The Raincoats,
Supertramp,
Visage,
Stiv Bators,
X-102,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rapeman,
The Residents,
Surgeon,
the Soft Cell,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Animal Collective,
Tommy Roe,
Black Bananas,
The Blues Magoos,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Severed Heads,
Scrapy,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
PIL,
Urselle,
Lou Reed,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.