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 Switzerland and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 The Divine Comedy to the techno 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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantaleimon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
The Dead C,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ralphi Rosario,
T. Rex,
Bush Tetras,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bauhaus,
Swans,
Negative Approach,
Unwound,
Bobby Womack,
Maurizio,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Todd Rundgren,
Warren Ellis,
Spandau Ballet,
Nirvana,
Scientists,
Soft Machine,
The Dirtbombs,
The Cowsills,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
John Lydon,
The Selecter,
Gang of Four,
The Leaves,
Rufus Thomas,
World's Most,
Rapeman,
Groovy Waters,
Altered Images,
The Music Machine,
Kayak,
Lou Christie,
Outsiders,
Cameo,
Tommy Roe,
CMW,
Buzzcocks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Joensuu 1685,
Jacob Miller,
The Durutti Column,
Stiv Bators,
Black Sheep,
Michelle Simonal,
The Modern Lovers,
New Age Steppers,
Rekid,
The Misunderstood,
Man Parrish,
Lungfish,
The Young Rascals,
Mission of Burma,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sun Ra,
Susan Cadogan,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.