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 Namibia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 chamberlin 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 Black Pus to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Lyres,
Jawbox,
D'Angelo,
Thompson Twins,
Amon Düül,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Carl Craig,
The Raincoats,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Byrd,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pharoah Sanders,
Camouflage,
Thee Headcoats,
Khruangbin,
Barry Ungar,
Pantytec,
Blancmange,
Half Japanese,
The Smiths,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Gories,
The Remains,
Negative Approach,
OOIOO,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fat Boys,
John Lydon,
Jeff Lynne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Soul Sonic Force,
K-Klass,
Soul II Soul,
Alison Limerick,
Glenn Branca,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Joe Finger,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gong,
Rotary Connection,
Scratch Acid,
Mary Jane Girls,
Piero Umiliani,
The Victims,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tears for Fears,
The Grass Roots,
The Names,
Audionom,
Masters at Work,
The Doors,
Grandmaster Flash,
Zapp,
Symarip,
Bobby Womack,
The United States of America,
Qualms,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.