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 Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Fire Engines to the techno 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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Germs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kevin Saunderson,
Wings,
Joe Finger,
Lou Christie,
Marvin Gaye,
Harry Pussy,
Public Image Ltd.,
DNA,
Max Romeo,
The Happenings,
The Misunderstood,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Roxette,
A Certain Ratio,
Second Layer,
Mo-Dettes,
Kerri Chandler,
Funkadelic,
Eli Mardock,
The Birthday Party,
Juan Atkins,
Cluster,
Albert Ayler,
Junior Murvin,
Lalann,
It's A Beautiful Day,
AZ,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Accadde A,
Amon Düül II,
Johnny Clarke,
Anthony Braxton,
Althea and Donna,
Jacques Brel,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Cal Tjader,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Star Department,
F. McDonald,
Jandek,
The Human League,
Oblivians,
Essential Logic,
Brass Construction,
Fat Boys,
Lou Reed,
The Litter,
Joy Division,
Con Funk Shun,
Boredoms,
Reuben Wilson,
Steve Hackett,
Freddie Wadling,
Urselle,
The Buckinghams,
Bad Manners,
Heaven 17,
Dave Gahan,
Nas,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.