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 Nigeria 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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Copenhagen.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Wally Richardson to the techno 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 Human League. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
Au Pairs,
Moby Grape,
Reuben Wilson,
The Real Kids,
Mr. Review,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fugazi,
Nas,
Neil Young,
Blake Baxter,
Avey Tare,
Sugar Minott,
the Human League,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Crash Course in Science,
The Velvet Underground,
Interpol,
Ken Boothe,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ornette Coleman,
Heaven 17,
Gang of Four,
Erasure,
the Sonics,
The Index,
Wings,
Johnny Clarke,
Aural Exciters,
Eurythmics,
Kool Moe Dee,
Barrington Levy,
The Cramps,
Soul II Soul,
Monks,
Quadrant,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Alice Coltrane,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Charles Mingus,
Graham Central Station,
Depeche Mode,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Brass Construction,
Unwound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Martian,
Jeff Mills,
Junior Murvin,
Robert Wyatt,
The Modern Lovers,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Chris & Cosey,
June Days,
The Buckinghams,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Banda Bassotti,
A Certain Ratio,
F. McDonald,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sun Ra,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.