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 Eritrea and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manila.
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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Yazoo to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Peter & Gordon. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra,
Nik Kershaw,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scientists,
Rapeman,
Crispian St. Peters,
Drive Like Jehu,
Flamin' Groovies,
Alice Coltrane,
Visage,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
John Coltrane,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ituana,
Lucky Dragons,
Avey Tare,
The Standells,
Minny Pops,
Hasil Adkins,
Vladislav Delay,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
John Lydon,
Desert Stars,
Deepchord,
Pet Shop Boys,
Terrestrial Tones,
Anthony Braxton,
The Monks,
The Fuzztones,
The Blues Magoos,
The Cramps,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Neil Young,
John Holt,
The Saints,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Masters at Work,
The Raincoats,
Jacob Miller,
Mission of Burma,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Soulsonic Force,
Stereo Dub,
The Stooges,
Moebius,
June Days,
Youth Brigade,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gang Starr,
OOIOO,
Thee Headcoats,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Terry Callier,
Clear Light,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Idris Muhammad,
Khruangbin,
Tommy Roe,
Icehouse,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.