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 Sweden and from London.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the grunge 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
Brothers Johnson,
Zero Boys,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stereo Dub,
Crispy Ambulance,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Smiths,
Colin Newman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lower 48,
Interpol,
Flipper,
Marmalade,
Ornette Coleman,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wally Richardson,
Maleditus Sound,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Arab on Radar,
The Neon Judgement,
Essential Logic,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dawn Penn,
Nirvana,
Ronnie Foster,
The Knickerbockers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Letta Mbulu,
AZ,
Wolf Eyes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mr. Review,
Groovy Waters,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Darondo,
Blake Baxter,
The Fire Engines,
Rod Modell,
June of 44,
Con Funk Shun,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Radio Birdman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Simply Red,
Gang of Four,
Heaven 17,
the Normal,
The Residents,
John Coltrane,
kango's stein massive,
Minnie Riperton,
Livin' Joy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Agitation Free,
UT,
Camberwell Now,
The Cramps,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bobby Byrd,
Can,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.