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 New Zealand and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Brick to the techno 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Donald Byrd,
Maleditus Sound,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sound Behaviour,
Dark Day,
Massinfluence,
The Skatalites,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Subhumans,
Bill Wells,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Suicide,
Morten Harket,
Q65,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Unrelated Segments,
New Order,
The Barracudas,
F. McDonald,
Barclay James Harvest,
Newcleus,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Searchers,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Human League,
Nick Fraelich,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Scion,
Soft Cell,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ituana,
EPMD,
Altered Images,
Symarip,
Clear Light,
Crooked Eye,
Barrington Levy,
New York Dolls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Girls At Our Best!,
Stiv Bators,
Second Layer,
The Gun Club,
Rod Modell,
Saccharine Trust,
Monolake,
The Offenders,
Terry Callier,
Rufus Thomas,
Tropical Tobacco,
Radio Birdman,
Darondo,
Juan Atkins,
Electric Prunes,
Jawbox,
Skriet,
The Gladiators,
Pylon,
Godley & Creme,
Supertramp,
Whodini,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.