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 Angola and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Robert Palmer 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 Infiniti to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
48th St. Collective,
Juan Atkins,
The Trojans,
Freddie Wadling,
The United States of America,
Avey Tare,
The Modern Lovers,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Evens,
Quadrant,
Malaria!,
The Gladiators,
X-101,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fire Engines,
Lungfish,
The Saints,
Sparks,
Monks,
The Mummies,
This Heat,
Porter Ricks,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Accadde A,
Pet Shop Boys,
Black Flag,
Scan 7,
The Move,
Sonny Sharrock,
Country Teasers,
Tom Boy,
Angry Samoans,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kayak,
Aaron Thompson,
Lou Christie,
Jandek,
Crispian St. Peters,
Magma,
the Sonics,
Skarface,
H. Thieme,
Fear,
The Detroit Cobras,
Aswad,
Thee Headcoats,
The Remains,
Unrelated Segments,
Rapeman,
Das Ding,
Alton Ellis,
the Swans,
Althea and Donna,
Los Fastidios,
Surgeon,
Ken Boothe,
Sam Rivers,
Livin' Joy,
Sun Ra,
Agitation Free,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.