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 Cambodia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Adolescents to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Ten City. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick May record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
James White and The Blacks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
X-102,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gil Scott Heron,
Joy Division,
T. Rex,
Mad Mike,
Aloha Tigers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ponytail,
Bang On A Can,
Oneida,
A Certain Ratio,
David Bowie,
Avey Tare,
Nick Fraelich,
Ossler,
Rod Modell,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Real Kids,
Peter and Kerry,
The Monks,
Albert Ayler,
Suicide,
Lou Reed,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scientists,
The Electric Prunes,
The Grass Roots,
kango's stein massive,
Joey Negro,
Outsiders,
Severed Heads,
Ralphi Rosario,
Quando Quango,
Eurythmics,
Bootsy Collins,
Can,
the Germs,
The Offenders,
The Gun Club,
Sonic Youth,
Graham Central Station,
Khruangbin,
Moebius,
Goldenarms,
PIL,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tropical Tobacco,
John Cale,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Yellowson,
Scan 7,
David Axelrod,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Roger Hodgson,
The Beau Brummels,
The Black Dice,
Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman.
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.