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 Thailand and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Vladislav Delay to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Schoolly D,
Bluetip,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lalo Schifrin,
Hot Snakes,
Ludus,
Sonic Youth,
U.S. Maple,
The Fortunes,
Cameo,
Morten Harket,
Wire,
Graham Central Station,
Funky Four + One,
Television Personalities,
Derrick Morgan,
Sällskapet,
Tropical Tobacco,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sexual Harrassment,
Darondo,
The Gladiators,
the Soft Cell,
The Mojo Men,
Index,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Parry Music,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Fuzztones,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nico,
Cecil Taylor,
Brand Nubian,
Heaven 17,
Cymande,
Brick,
Make Up,
Swans,
Avey Tare,
The New Christs,
The Raincoats,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Dennis Brown,
Letta Mbulu,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Mr. Review,
Jacques Brel,
The Move,
Bobby Byrd,
Amazonics,
Easy Going,
Zapp,
Intrusion,
Crispy Ambulance,
Yellowson,
One Last Wish,
Bad Manners,
Dead Boys,
Deadbeat,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
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.