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 South Sudan and from Edmonton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
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 Sight & Sound to the punk 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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Harry Pussy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Fania All-Stars,
Faraquet,
Cal Tjader,
Ossler,
The Neon Judgement,
Pere Ubu,
Ralphi Rosario,
A Certain Ratio,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Doors,
Khruangbin,
Warren Ellis,
The Beau Brummels,
Icehouse,
Japan,
The Saints,
Roy Ayers,
Adolescents,
Mission of Burma,
Maurizio,
Country Joe & The Fish,
David Axelrod,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
B.T. Express,
Symarip,
Gang Gang Dance,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Fuzztones,
Desert Stars,
The Velvet Underground,
The New Christs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Agitation Free,
The Gories,
The Names,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Black Dice,
Soft Cell,
Stetsasonic,
The Cure,
Minnie Riperton,
Donny Hathaway,
Lucky Dragons,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Boredoms,
Robert Hood,
Nik Kershaw,
F. McDonald,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nick Fraelich,
Sex Pistols,
Reuben Wilson,
Shuggie Otis,
Black Sheep,
Junior Murvin,
Anthony Braxton,
The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers.
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.