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 Bahamas and from Beijing.
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 Seoul and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Cheater Slicks to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
T. Rex,
Television Personalities,
The Skatalites,
Intrusion,
Ice-T,
The Sonics,
Neu!,
Hardrive,
The Associates,
Black Sheep,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bill Near,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Robert Hood,
Little Man,
One Last Wish,
Amazonics,
John Foxx,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Moleskins,
X-Ray Spex,
James White and The Blacks,
Rapeman,
Grauzone,
Howard Jones,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tears for Fears,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
World's Most,
Gang Starr,
The Velvet Underground,
The Residents,
Harry Pussy,
Man Parrish,
Faust,
Reuben Wilson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bush Tetras,
The Sound,
Sun City Girls,
The Grass Roots,
The Cramps,
Vainqueur,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Charles Mingus,
EPMD,
Motorama,
Bang On A Can,
The Star Department,
Sandy B,
The Kinks,
Jeff Lynne,
Bizarre Inc.,
Erasure,
Boz Scaggs,
The Standells,
Kool Moe Dee,
Masters at Work,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.