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 Armenia 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Pussy Galore to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All EPMD tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Searchers,
Cheater Slicks,
Bluetip,
ABBA,
Pere Ubu,
Albert Ayler,
Bill Near,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Wasted Youth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
A Certain Ratio,
Kenny Larkin,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
AZ,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Subhumans,
Robert Wyatt,
The American Breed,
Lou Reed,
Blake Baxter,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Surgeon,
Crooked Eye,
the Sonics,
Eve St. Jones,
Fluxion,
Nico,
Charles Mingus,
Silicon Teens,
Arab on Radar,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Masters at Work,
Sam Rivers,
Fear,
Thee Headcoats,
Matthew Bourne,
Deakin,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sister Nancy,
John Holt,
New Order,
FM Einheit,
The Saints,
Glenn Branca,
World's Most,
Man Eating Sloth,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Robert Hood,
Index,
Bobby Byrd,
Althea and Donna,
Nils Olav,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Coltrane,
Little Man,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.