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 Cambodia and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Zeros record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
June of 44,
Rapeman,
Nas,
Yazoo,
Eurythmics,
Suicide,
The Gories,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Associates,
Sun Ra,
Cybotron,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stiv Bators,
The Walker Brothers,
Circle Jerks,
The Cramps,
Roxette,
The Trojans,
Kayak,
The Dead C,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Move,
Arthur Verocai,
Wire,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Count Five,
F. McDonald,
Public Enemy,
R.M.O.,
The Tremeloes,
Neil Young,
Monolake,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Trumans Water,
Ponytail,
Marc Almond,
Traffic Nightmare,
Suburban Knight,
cv313,
Chrome,
Bizarre Inc.,
Severed Heads,
CMW,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Moleskins,
Matthew Halsall,
Pierre Henry,
Monks,
Visage,
Bill Wells,
Tubeway Army,
Organ,
Ronnie Foster,
The Last Poets,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Tim Buckley,
Harry Pussy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Brothers Johnson,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.