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 Sudan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Copenhagen.
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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Busters to the rap 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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chrome 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
F. McDonald,
Glenn Branca,
Oneida,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dennis Brown,
Susan Cadogan,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Blackbyrds,
Circle Jerks,
Lungfish,
Eve St. Jones,
The Sound,
The Smoke,
a-ha,
Marine Girls,
Kerrie Biddell,
Vainqueur,
Howard Jones,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Idris Muhammad,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Tommy Roe,
Mary Jane Girls,
Supertramp,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pylon,
T. Rex,
Zapp,
The J.B.'s,
Bang On A Can,
Al Stewart,
Swans,
Urselle,
X-101,
Marshall Jefferson,
Cecil Taylor,
Juan Atkins,
Slave,
Jacques Brel,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Monochrome Set,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Reagan Youth,
Alison Limerick,
The Skatalites,
The Cosmic Jokers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Bar-Kays,
Eric Dolphy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Michelle Simonal,
Flash Fearless,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Selecter,
Loose Ends,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Goldenarms,
Swell Maps,
Maleditus Sound,
Cheater Slicks,
Erykah Badu,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.