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 Algeria and from Toronto.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Pierre Henry,
Spandau Ballet,
Main Source,
Country Teasers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fear,
Eve St. Jones,
Fad Gadget,
Royal Trux,
kango's stein massive,
The Velvet Underground,
The Index,
Soft Cell,
Ossler,
Kerri Chandler,
Charles Mingus,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Sonics,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Mighty Diamonds,
DJ Style,
Derrick May,
Whodini,
Bobby Byrd,
Oblivians,
the Association,
cv313,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Aloha Tigers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Happenings,
Gang Starr,
Pulsallama,
Matthew Halsall,
Rhythm & Sound,
Skarface,
Bluetip,
Quadrant,
Oneida,
Minnie Riperton,
Wasted Youth,
Rod Modell,
Grandmaster Flash,
Con Funk Shun,
Lakeside,
Fela Kuti,
David Axelrod,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cecil Taylor,
Young Marble Giants,
The Evens,
D'Angelo,
Black Flag,
the Fania All-Stars,
Avey Tare,
Godley & Creme,
Grauzone,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Red Krayola,
Rotary Connection,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.