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 Nicaragua and from Mumbai.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 arpeggiator 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 Banda Bassotti to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Agent Orange,
Gregory Isaacs,
Simply Red,
Wire,
Mo-Dettes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rites of Spring,
Yazoo,
The Music Machine,
Nirvana,
World's Most,
The Selecter,
Black Moon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ronnie Foster,
Pharoah Sanders,
Neu!,
Subhumans,
Bush Tetras,
Ultravox,
ABBA,
Kerrie Biddell,
Anakelly,
The Kinks,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Durutti Column,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eve St. Jones,
John Cale,
Dave Gahan,
Technova,
Rod Modell,
Outsiders,
Tubeway Army,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bobby Byrd,
The Electric Prunes,
Robert Görl,
the Human League,
Malaria!,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eric Dolphy,
Brick,
Cybotron,
Crispian St. Peters,
Stockholm Monsters,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Public Image Ltd.,
Darondo,
Stereo Dub,
Gang Starr,
Dark Day,
Nick Fraelich,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
R.M.O.,
Supertramp,
The Cure,
The Raincoats,
Vainqueur,
Deepchord,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.