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 Argentina and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Terrestrial Tones to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Outsiders,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pere Ubu,
The Misunderstood,
The Cowsills,
Scientists,
Rod Modell,
Urselle,
Idris Muhammad,
Gang Green,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Blues Magoos,
Brand Nubian,
Swans,
Eve St. Jones,
Yellowson,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Toasters,
Graham Central Station,
Dead Boys,
The Walker Brothers,
ABC,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Half Japanese,
Clear Light,
The Last Poets,
Neil Young,
Sun Ra,
The Smoke,
Pagans,
Bluetip,
8 Eyed Spy,
Michelle Simonal,
The Mojo Men,
Reagan Youth,
David Axelrod,
Alphaville,
The Move,
John Coltrane,
kango's stein massive,
Jacques Brel,
Radio Birdman,
The Associates,
Blossom Toes,
the Association,
Porter Ricks,
Mad Mike,
Los Fastidios,
Archie Shepp,
Duran Duran,
Surgeon,
June of 44,
Sarah Menescal,
Stockholm Monsters,
Grey Daturas,
Todd Rundgren,
Mary Jane Girls,
T.S.O.L.,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.