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 Colombia and from London.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Nik Kershaw to the crunk 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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Connie Case,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Golliwogs,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Chris Corsano,
Young Marble Giants,
Nils Olav,
Brand Nubian,
Goldenarms,
the Normal,
Traffic Nightmare,
Joensuu 1685,
Piero Umiliani,
Brothers Johnson,
Gang of Four,
These Immortal Souls,
cv313,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Minutemen,
Ken Boothe,
The United States of America,
Urselle,
Audionom,
Barbara Tucker,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Slits,
The Seeds,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Agent Orange,
Carl Craig,
The Knickerbockers,
Skriet,
John Holt,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tears for Fears,
Make Up,
The Residents,
Symarip,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
DNA,
Stetsasonic,
The Martian,
Faraquet,
Fear,
The Pop Group,
Surgeon,
Tim Buckley,
Yusef Lateef,
Rod Modell,
Jeff Lynne,
Black Flag,
Eve St. Jones,
Echospace,
B.T. Express,
Josef K,
The Zeros,
Man Parrish,
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.