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 Samoa and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 spring reverb 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 Kurtis Blow to the jazz 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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Sarah Menescal,
Alice Coltrane,
Tom Boy,
Derrick Morgan,
The Five Americans,
The Remains,
Marc Almond,
Ludus,
Main Source,
The Sound,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Motorama,
Swans,
Blossom Toes,
Spoonie Gee,
Maurizio,
Siglo XX,
Flash Fearless,
Girls At Our Best!,
Alison Limerick,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Fear,
X-101,
Pere Ubu,
Sandy B,
The Durutti Column,
Gabor Szabo,
The Index,
Minnie Riperton,
Warsaw,
The Standells,
Ultravox,
Magazine,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Modern Lovers,
Scientists,
Monolake,
Chris & Cosey,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
U.S. Maple,
Marmalade,
David McCallum,
Bluetip,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Slits,
The Seeds,
Flamin' Groovies,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Motions,
Sonny Sharrock,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Radio Birdman,
Sister Nancy,
DNA,
Section 25,
X-Ray Spex,
Nirvana,
The Dave Clark Five,
48th St. Collective,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.