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 Saudi Arabia and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
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 Whodini to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
New York Dolls,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Tremeloes,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Gun Club,
a-ha,
Andrew Hill,
Moby Grape,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Suicide,
The Velvet Underground,
Donald Byrd,
the Fania All-Stars,
Delta 5,
Erasure,
Connie Case,
The Electric Prunes,
Sun City Girls,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Fall,
Lucky Dragons,
The Seeds,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nas,
Bang On A Can,
The Fugs,
DJ Style,
X-102,
Wasted Youth,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cymande,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bauhaus,
Schoolly D,
Thee Headcoats,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sam Rivers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Television Personalities,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rufus Thomas,
Sex Pistols,
The Gories,
Theoretical Girls,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bad Manners,
Rites of Spring,
The Fire Engines,
the Sonics,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Davy DMX,
The Smoke,
10cc,
Scan 7,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Association,
D'Angelo,
New Order,
Grauzone,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.