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 Argentina and from Taipei.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Black Moon to the punk 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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents 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 an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Skarface,
The Kinks,
Khruangbin,
Charles Mingus,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pierre Henry,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ultra Naté,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nirvana,
Moby Grape,
cv313,
Bobby Sherman,
Lou Reed,
Model 500,
Excepter,
New Age Steppers,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ludus,
Al Stewart,
The Birthday Party,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jerry's Kids,
Ash Ra Tempel,
B.T. Express,
Scrapy,
Scan 7,
Peter and Kerry,
Animal Collective,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Saccharine Trust,
David Bowie,
E-Dancer,
Henry Cow,
Scion,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Depeche Mode,
Freddie Wadling,
Sonic Youth,
Tom Boy,
Laurel Aitken,
Cheater Slicks,
Mark Hollis,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
Circle Jerks,
Malaria!,
Alice Coltrane,
Qualms,
Nick Fraelich,
Sight & Sound,
The Litter,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Fugazi,
the Association,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.