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 East Timor and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Names to the rock 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 The Litter. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Busters,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mantronix,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Monks,
Sex Pistols,
Dark Day,
Skriet,
the Germs,
Los Fastidios,
Ohio Players,
Bobby Sherman,
June Days,
Glambeats Corp.,
Wasted Youth,
Ronan,
Oblivians,
Mars,
Soft Machine,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Scan 7,
Groovy Waters,
Thompson Twins,
Frankie Knuckles,
Glenn Branca,
Ronnie Foster,
Eve St. Jones,
The United States of America,
The Martian,
Pole,
Erasure,
Delta 5,
China Crisis,
Television,
Kool Moe Dee,
Banda Bassotti,
Bootsy Collins,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cal Tjader,
Nick Fraelich,
Bang On A Can,
Ultimate Spinach,
Hasil Adkins,
Jacob Miller,
Organ,
The Doobie Brothers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Barracudas,
Amon Düül,
MDC,
Susan Cadogan,
Interpol,
Royal Trux,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.