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 Bolivia and from Accra.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Inner City to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang on a Can All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mars,
Con Funk Shun,
Letta Mbulu,
Parry Music,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dawn Penn,
The Wake,
PIL,
Public Image Ltd.,
Rapeman,
Subhumans,
a-ha,
Ultravox,
Vladislav Delay,
The Blackbyrds,
Boz Scaggs,
Buzzcocks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sight & Sound,
The Modern Lovers,
The Sonics,
Carl Craig,
Fad Gadget,
Accadde A,
Interpol,
Faraquet,
The Seeds,
The Cowsills,
Saccharine Trust,
Vainqueur,
The Searchers,
Susan Cadogan,
Tres Demented,
Wally Richardson,
Rakim,
Grandmaster Flash,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Busters,
John Cale,
The Human League,
Sandy B,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Basic Channel,
Roxy Music,
Spandau Ballet,
Janne Schatter,
Camberwell Now,
Black Pus,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bill Wells,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Divine Comedy,
Lou Christie,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Model 500,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Michelle Simonal,
Brothers Johnson,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.