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 Zimbabwe and from Accra.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 marimba 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the punk 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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Associates record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Saccharine Trust,
Das Ding,
the Association,
Cheater Slicks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Qualms,
H. Thieme,
Crash Course in Science,
Black Pus,
Radiohead,
Brass Construction,
Cal Tjader,
KRS-One,
Janne Schatter,
The Blackbyrds,
The Real Kids,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Grass Roots,
Mad Mike,
Agent Orange,
Jimmy McGriff,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Davy DMX,
Niagra,
Suburban Knight,
Sun Ra,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Human League,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Au Pairs,
Porter Ricks,
X-102,
Hasil Adkins,
Altered Images,
Duran Duran,
Kas Product,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
MDC,
Nils Olav,
Bill Near,
Quadrant,
Newcleus,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Make Up,
Slick Rick,
Brand Nubian,
Grauzone,
Nas,
Excepter,
Bluetip,
the Swans,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Litter,
Flash Fearless,
Easy Going,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Erasure,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.