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 Cape Verde and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Rufus Thomas to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Rites of Spring,
Negative Approach,
Warren Ellis,
Icehouse,
Wings,
Skriet,
Camouflage,
Sixth Finger,
Mars,
Mandrill,
Scion,
Shoche,
The Smoke,
Marine Girls,
Sonic Youth,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Black Dice,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
CMW,
Sugar Minott,
Basic Channel,
The Dead C,
Junior Murvin,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kool Moe Dee,
Stockholm Monsters,
Monks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jawbox,
Buzzcocks,
Visage,
The United States of America,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sex Pistols,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Mojo Men,
Rapeman,
Grauzone,
Gong,
The Trojans,
Brick,
Blossom Toes,
JFA,
the Sonics,
Grandmaster Flash,
Hardrive,
Niagra,
Colin Newman,
the Normal,
Lalann,
Patti Smith,
Bob Dylan,
Harry Pussy,
B.T. Express,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Angels of Light,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Livin' Joy,
the Swans,
Lightning Bolt,
Mark Hollis,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.