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 Lithuania and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Niagra to the dance 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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Dennis Brown,
Wolf Eyes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Swans,
Mark Hollis,
Darondo,
Connie Case,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Heaven 17,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bang On A Can,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lalann,
Black Pus,
Au Pairs,
Technova,
Lalo Schifrin,
Chris Corsano,
The Moody Blues,
Essential Logic,
Joe Finger,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Golliwogs,
Tom Boy,
Spoonie Gee,
Terry Callier,
Howard Jones,
Buzzcocks,
Mr. Review,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Stereo Dub,
Newcleus,
New Order,
The Searchers,
Bad Manners,
Adolescents,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pantaleimon,
Deepchord,
X-Ray Spex,
La Düsseldorf,
Gastr Del Sol,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jawbox,
Todd Rundgren,
Neu!,
Hardrive,
Tropical Tobacco,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Tears for Fears,
the Association,
Vainqueur,
Eddi Front,
FM Einheit,
The Mummies,
Slick Rick,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.