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 Bhutan and from Lyon.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Lou Reed 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 Y Pants to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Hardrive,
Sarah Menescal,
Lee Hazlewood,
Arab on Radar,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rod Modell,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Martian,
Tres Demented,
Pere Ubu,
The Kinks,
JFA,
The Seeds,
Ice-T,
the Fania All-Stars,
Au Pairs,
Radio Birdman,
The Moleskins,
Lou Reed,
Youth Brigade,
Henry Cow,
Derrick May,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Human League,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sight & Sound,
Peter & Gordon,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Barbara Tucker,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Todd Terry,
The Move,
The Fire Engines,
Masters at Work,
Heaven 17,
Brass Construction,
Frankie Knuckles,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Stereo Dub,
Pantaleimon,
Kool Moe Dee,
Colin Newman,
Television,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brand Nubian,
Avey Tare,
Marshall Jefferson,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Doobie Brothers,
Malaria!,
The Gap Band,
Black Sheep,
Crime,
Eric Copeland,
KRS-One,
Pussy Galore,
Dorothy Ashby,
Black Flag,
Lou Christie,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.