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 Luxembourg and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the guitar 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 Slits 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 Audionom. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter and Kerry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Sound,
June Days,
Surgeon,
Boz Scaggs,
B.T. Express,
the Association,
Marshall Jefferson,
Judy Mowatt,
Barbara Tucker,
Tubeway Army,
Eli Mardock,
Mo-Dettes,
10cc,
The Durutti Column,
Carl Craig,
Anthony Braxton,
Man Parrish,
The Gories,
DNA,
Danielle Patucci,
Jeru the Damaja,
Moebius,
Aaron Thompson,
Subhumans,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Beau Brummels,
Pharoah Sanders,
Minny Pops,
Qualms,
Camouflage,
Quando Quango,
Fad Gadget,
The Real Kids,
Frankie Knuckles,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Shadows of Knight,
La Düsseldorf,
Ralphi Rosario,
Matthew Bourne,
The Martian,
Quadrant,
Boredoms,
Warsaw,
The Techniques,
Lebanon Hanover,
Livin' Joy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Janne Schatter,
Stockholm Monsters,
John Foxx,
Cluster,
Flipper,
E-Dancer,
Excepter,
Tom Boy,
Yaz,
Nick Fraelich,
Mission of Burma,
Pussy Galore,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.