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 Germany and from Portland.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Neon Judgement to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Germs,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Remains,
Unwound,
Desert Stars,
Mary Jane Girls,
Severed Heads,
Loose Ends,
Magazine,
Harmonia,
Tom Boy,
Minor Threat,
Essential Logic,
The Raincoats,
The Dirtbombs,
Sparks,
Amon Düül II,
Colin Newman,
Alphaville,
Smog,
Skaos,
Letta Mbulu,
Vladislav Delay,
Crispian St. Peters,
Black Sheep,
Glenn Branca,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Slits,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Nico,
Max Romeo,
David Axelrod,
Moby Grape,
Roxette,
Cymande,
Ice-T,
The Last Poets,
Q and Not U,
Sun City Girls,
Minutemen,
Frankie Knuckles,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Faraquet,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Byrd,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Evens,
John Foxx,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Robert Wyatt,
Spoonie Gee,
Von Mondo,
Pole,
Babytalk,
Ponytail,
Todd Rundgren,
New York Dolls,
Black Bananas,
Traffic Nightmare,
Flamin' Groovies,
Fela Kuti,
The Red Krayola,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.