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 Argentina and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Alton Ellis to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Amazonics,
Dennis Brown,
The Angels of Light,
Lightning Bolt,
The Misunderstood,
Moby Grape,
Aural Exciters,
Con Funk Shun,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
T. Rex,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Wolf Eyes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Crooked Eye,
The Slackers,
Tomorrow,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Max Romeo,
Deepchord,
Eddi Front,
The Index,
Moebius,
Byron Stingily,
Niagra,
The Cowsills,
Ken Boothe,
Nils Olav,
The Detroit Cobras,
June of 44,
Black Pus,
Rosa Yemen,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Blancmange,
The Move,
PIL,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Swell Maps,
a-ha,
Jacques Brel,
Marc Almond,
JFA,
Bad Manners,
Scrapy,
Echospace,
Minnie Riperton,
Zero Boys,
Whodini,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Slits,
La Düsseldorf,
Henry Cow,
Hashim,
The Happenings,
Thee Headcoats,
Brick,
Jesper Dahlback,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bauhaus,
Inner City,
Reagan Youth,
Swans,
The Fortunes,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.