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 Cuba and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Black Bananas 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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Mills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Offenders,
ABBA,
Saccharine Trust,
Ossler,
Black Pus,
Sam Rivers,
Gang Starr,
The Blackbyrds,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sight & Sound,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nik Kershaw,
Camberwell Now,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Magazine,
Suicide,
X-Ray Spex,
The Pop Group,
Skriet,
The Standells,
The Golliwogs,
Tubeway Army,
Don Cherry,
K-Klass,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Liliput,
Big Daddy Kane,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Das Ding,
Brothers Johnson,
Eurythmics,
Lucky Dragons,
Banda Bassotti,
The Moleskins,
Desert Stars,
Infiniti,
Mantronix,
The Monochrome Set,
Matthew Bourne,
Moby Grape,
the Germs,
Tomorrow,
Ultimate Spinach,
FM Einheit,
Black Flag,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Curtis Mayfield,
Archie Shepp,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Bar-Kays,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sonic Youth,
The Five Americans,
Joy Division,
ABC,
Black Moon,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.