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 Tuvalu and from London.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 chamberlin 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 Prince Buster to the techno 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 the Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Derrick Morgan,
Fugazi,
The J.B.'s,
Young Marble Giants,
Organ,
Tomorrow,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Dead C,
The Doors,
Ituana,
Saccharine Trust,
Ponytail,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Wake,
Heaven 17,
Television,
48th St. Collective,
The Cowsills,
Tim Buckley,
Traffic Nightmare,
World's Most,
Bronski Beat,
Little Man,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Walker Brothers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wasted Youth,
Mo-Dettes,
Black Bananas,
Avey Tare,
Soft Cell,
John Lydon,
Tres Demented,
Gregory Isaacs,
John Cale,
The Smiths,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Boredoms,
Eurythmics,
the Slits,
Godley & Creme,
The Gun Club,
Soul Sonic Force,
Animal Collective,
Hasil Adkins,
Mr. Review,
Minny Pops,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Malaria!,
Cheater Slicks,
Visage,
Anthony Braxton,
Duran Duran,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Blancmange,
Au Pairs,
Ice-T,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.