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 South Africa and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 organ 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cameo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Echospace,
Ralphi Rosario,
Massinfluence,
Hoover,
Tres Demented,
Los Fastidios,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Marine Girls,
Fear,
Erasure,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Schoolly D,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Crispian St. Peters,
Youth Brigade,
Joe Smooth,
T. Rex,
Zapp,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jeff Lynne,
World's Most,
Ultimate Spinach,
Index,
D'Angelo,
Moby Grape,
Bauhaus,
Derrick Morgan,
Peter and Kerry,
Swans,
This Heat,
Sex Pistols,
Ludus,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bad Manners,
Michelle Simonal,
The Seeds,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Letta Mbulu,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rapeman,
Black Bananas,
Desert Stars,
Amazonics,
The Doors,
The Walker Brothers,
Brothers Johnson,
Aloha Tigers,
The Cramps,
Harry Pussy,
Pere Ubu,
The Monks,
Black Flag,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Make Up,
Liliput,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Monochrome Set,
Grauzone,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.