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 Slovenia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Absolute Body Control to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
JFA,
Tears for Fears,
Marc Almond,
Supertramp,
Animal Collective,
The Cowsills,
Lightning Bolt,
Pagans,
Iggy Pop,
DJ Style,
Robert Görl,
The Music Machine,
Freddie Wadling,
David Bowie,
Bobby Womack,
The Modern Lovers,
Unwound,
Index,
Unrelated Segments,
Camouflage,
Absolute Body Control,
Television,
Harmonia,
Gil Scott Heron,
Al Stewart,
Chrome,
Pulsallama,
The Beau Brummels,
Ken Boothe,
Electric Prunes,
Eric Copeland,
Johnny Clarke,
Boz Scaggs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eddi Front,
Thompson Twins,
Arcadia,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ludus,
Derrick Morgan,
Monks,
Scratch Acid,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Das Ding,
Kaleidoscope,
Man Eating Sloth,
Oneida,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Monochrome Set,
Amon Düül,
Donald Byrd,
The Vogues,
Lower 48,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ice-T,
Eric Dolphy,
One Last Wish,
Newcleus,
Model 500,
Easy Going,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.