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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lightning Bolt to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
R.M.O.,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eurythmics,
The Tremeloes,
Robert Hood,
Jandek,
Shuggie Otis,
Barry Ungar,
Jerry's Kids,
Dave Gahan,
The Black Dice,
CMW,
World's Most,
DJ Sneak,
AZ,
Brand Nubian,
Cymande,
UT,
Young Marble Giants,
Monolake,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Music Machine,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Connie Case,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Selecter,
Trumans Water,
Eve St. Jones,
Bronski Beat,
Howard Jones,
Jacob Miller,
The Moleskins,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Hardrive,
Faust,
In Retrospect,
The Mummies,
The Fire Engines,
Bizarre Inc.,
Boredoms,
the Bar-Kays,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Offenders,
Bootsy Collins,
The Associates,
T.S.O.L.,
John Cale,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Slick Rick,
These Immortal Souls,
Jacques Brel,
Barbara Tucker,
Aloha Tigers,
Intrusion,
Angry Samoans,
Sun City Girls,
Scratch Acid,
Duran Duran,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Cramps,
Main Source,
Roger Hodgson,
Black Bananas,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.