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 Namibia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians 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?
X-101,
The Raincoats,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mary Jane Girls,
T. Rex,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Von Mondo,
Dead Boys,
Hashim,
Ice-T,
Wire,
Joyce Sims,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Sonics,
The Smiths,
48th St. Collective,
Buzzcocks,
Heaven 17,
Theoretical Girls,
Franke,
Kenny Larkin,
Charles Mingus,
Newcleus,
Agent Orange,
Erykah Badu,
Echospace,
F. McDonald,
Lakeside,
Alton Ellis,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eve St. Jones,
Grauzone,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Q and Not U,
Warsaw,
Jawbox,
Ralphi Rosario,
Basic Channel,
This Heat,
Donny Hathaway,
Radio Birdman,
The Pretty Things,
Porter Ricks,
Little Man,
DJ Sneak,
Al Stewart,
Deepchord,
Surgeon,
Icehouse,
Chris & Cosey,
Soft Cell,
David Bowie,
Maurizio,
Clear Light,
Essential Logic,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lungfish,
Flash Fearless,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Idris Muhammad,
Reuben Wilson,
Wolf Eyes,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.