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 Netherlands and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Scientists to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Robert Wyatt,
Sun Ra,
The Selecter,
Stereo Dub,
Schoolly D,
Joe Smooth,
Eve St. Jones,
U.S. Maple,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Residents,
The Velvet Underground,
Outsiders,
Ronan,
June of 44,
The Litter,
Zapp,
Severed Heads,
X-Ray Spex,
Slave,
Kerri Chandler,
Tomorrow,
Bronski Beat,
Carl Craig,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bang On A Can,
Scan 7,
the Slits,
Sparks,
Pere Ubu,
Kool Moe Dee,
Q65,
The Divine Comedy,
Nils Olav,
Qualms,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Skatalites,
the Human League,
Jacques Brel,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Roxette,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kenny Larkin,
Zero Boys,
The Seeds,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Trumans Water,
Delon & Dalcan,
In Retrospect,
Tim Buckley,
Q and Not U,
Talk Talk,
Barry Ungar,
Jacob Miller,
Sex Pistols,
Harry Pussy,
Joensuu 1685,
The Trojans,
Boz Scaggs,
Marine Girls,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.