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 Colombia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 New York and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Yusef Lateef to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
The Tremeloes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Stockholm Monsters,
Drexciya,
Sällskapet,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Slackers,
Vladislav Delay,
Eddi Front,
Model 500,
Magma,
Boz Scaggs,
Interpol,
June Days,
The Beau Brummels,
the Soft Cell,
Bobby Womack,
The Move,
L. Decosne,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Gories,
Cal Tjader,
The Index,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Doors,
Faust,
The Gap Band,
Soul II Soul,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Modern Lovers,
Buzzcocks,
Marine Girls,
Eric B and Rakim,
Simply Red,
ABC,
Underground Resistance,
Radiohead,
Sun Ra,
Arab on Radar,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Black Pus,
Harry Pussy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
EPMD,
Metal Thangz,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Walker Brothers,
Al Stewart,
Skarface,
Japan,
Radiopuhelimet,
Television Personalities,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Zapp,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sixth Finger,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang Starr,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Brand Nubian,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.