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 Djibouti and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Lou Reed 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 Country Teasers to the grunge 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Nirvana,
Grauzone,
Derrick May,
Neil Young,
Wire,
Livin' Joy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Pantytec,
Stockholm Monsters,
Dead Boys,
The Names,
Model 500,
Infiniti,
Wasted Youth,
AZ,
John Foxx,
The Fortunes,
Arab on Radar,
Camberwell Now,
The Cowsills,
Sonny Sharrock,
Maurizio,
Sun Ra,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Flipper,
The Offenders,
Absolute Body Control,
Pussy Galore,
Delta 5,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Skriet,
Silicon Teens,
This Heat,
Piero Umiliani,
Ultimate Spinach,
Newcleus,
Buzzcocks,
Pierre Henry,
Zapp,
Danielle Patucci,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marine Girls,
Big Daddy Kane,
Shuggie Otis,
Pere Ubu,
World's Most,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Television Personalities,
Siglo XX,
Young Marble Giants,
Johnny Clarke,
Suicide,
Jacques Brel,
Fela Kuti,
The United States of America,
David Axelrod,
The Monks,
John Holt,
Interpol,
Hoover,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Delon & Dalcan,
Intrusion,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.