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 Slovenia and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Selecter to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus 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 marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Isaac Hayes,
Goldenarms,
Parry Music,
Guru Guru,
Gang Gang Dance,
Deakin,
Das Ding,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Althea and Donna,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Smiths,
Sister Nancy,
Easy Going,
Mo-Dettes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Busters,
Country Teasers,
Hashim,
Fad Gadget,
Cheater Slicks,
Scrapy,
John Coltrane,
Pussy Galore,
Grauzone,
The Fire Engines,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sam Rivers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
New York Dolls,
Electric Prunes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pole,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Monks,
Masters at Work,
Von Mondo,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Motorama,
Mark Hollis,
Public Enemy,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Swans,
New Order,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lebanon Hanover,
Aaron Thompson,
Joensuu 1685,
Jeru the Damaja,
Black Moon,
Depeche Mode,
Brass Construction,
Quantec,
Mary Jane Girls,
Reagan Youth,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lou Christie,
Make Up,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.