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 Equatorial Guinea and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Spokane.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ 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 Bush Tetras to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sparks. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harmonia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Graham Central Station,
Amon Düül,
Gichy Dan,
New York Dolls,
Sällskapet,
Yellowson,
Jawbox,
Sun Ra,
Malaria!,
The Misunderstood,
Michelle Simonal,
Arab on Radar,
Half Japanese,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Isaac Hayes,
Eric Copeland,
Bootsy Collins,
The Moody Blues,
The Monks,
The Fall,
Spandau Ballet,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Tommy Roe,
Anakelly,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Chris & Cosey,
Donny Hathaway,
June Days,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Music Machine,
Wally Richardson,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Black Pus,
Ken Boothe,
Agitation Free,
Black Sheep,
Monks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Detroit Cobras,
Steve Hackett,
John Cale,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Faust,
Urselle,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Andrew Hill,
Pere Ubu,
Eli Mardock,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bobby Sherman,
Tim Buckley,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Doors,
Man Eating Sloth,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Swans,
Robert Görl,
New Order,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.