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 East Timor and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Livin' Joy to the grunge 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Sonics,
The Litter,
The Dirtbombs,
Ossler,
The Cowsills,
Agent Orange,
Vainqueur,
Donny Hathaway,
The Martian,
Rosa Yemen,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
CMW,
Chris & Cosey,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Monks,
Wings,
The Kinks,
EPMD,
Bush Tetras,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Television Personalities,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cybotron,
Rites of Spring,
Dark Day,
Smog,
Lou Christie,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Motions,
Mark Hollis,
The Standells,
John Coltrane,
Danielle Patucci,
Livin' Joy,
Kaleidoscope,
John Cale,
Angry Samoans,
Neu!,
The Residents,
Boredoms,
Pantaleimon,
Yazoo,
Letta Mbulu,
Henry Cow,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Count Five,
the Bar-Kays,
The Electric Prunes,
Dennis Brown,
Easy Going,
Josef K,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Skarface,
Reagan Youth,
Barry Ungar,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
John Lydon,
Das Ding,
Bauhaus,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.