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 Switzerland and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Amon Düül to the punk 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Buzzcocks,
The American Breed,
Yellowson,
Popol Vuh,
Sparks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dark Day,
Nico,
Cameo,
Eddi Front,
Depeche Mode,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bronski Beat,
The Fire Engines,
New York Dolls,
Bobby Byrd,
The Barracudas,
The Human League,
Rufus Thomas,
Jerry's Kids,
Jesper Dahlback,
Alphaville,
The Index,
Funky Four + One,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pussy Galore,
Mad Mike,
The Moody Blues,
Altered Images,
Crash Course in Science,
Japan,
Ken Boothe,
Panda Bear,
The Moleskins,
Piero Umiliani,
Talk Talk,
Make Up,
Funkadelic,
Fugazi,
Television Personalities,
Banda Bassotti,
The Tremeloes,
The Real Kids,
Loose Ends,
Pole,
A Certain Ratio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Quando Quango,
Sexual Harrassment,
Can,
Patti Smith,
Moss Icon,
Iggy Pop,
These Immortal Souls,
Davy DMX,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.