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 Congo and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord 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 Reuben Wilson to the dance 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 Q65. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
MDC,
Arab on Radar,
Urselle,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
These Immortal Souls,
Chris Corsano,
Black Moon,
Sam Rivers,
Nation of Ulysses,
DNA,
Kerri Chandler,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gabor Szabo,
Marine Girls,
Todd Rundgren,
Avey Tare,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mantronix,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Joe Finger,
the Association,
KRS-One,
Cybotron,
The Leaves,
The Modern Lovers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
New York Dolls,
World's Most,
The Searchers,
Rakim,
Livin' Joy,
The Cramps,
The Star Department,
Sound Behaviour,
Nas,
The United States of America,
X-Ray Spex,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Shadows of Knight,
Joey Negro,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ponytail,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Clear Light,
Minnie Riperton,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jeff Mills,
Lakeside,
Lyres,
Terry Callier,
Robert Hood,
Bad Manners,
Bootsy Collins,
D'Angelo,
Q and Not U,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eurythmics,
Pantytec,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.