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 Korea South and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Stooges to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Roxy Music. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
The Busters,
The Blackbyrds,
EPMD,
Rites of Spring,
The Litter,
Skriet,
Isaac Hayes,
Charles Mingus,
Neu!,
The Offenders,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Visage,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Slits,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Dennis Brown,
Reagan Youth,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Glenn Branca,
The Sonics,
Bang On A Can,
Duran Duran,
Cameo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bill Near,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Oneida,
The Trojans,
Gabor Szabo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Erykah Badu,
The Searchers,
Radio Birdman,
Sun City Girls,
Yazoo,
Henry Cow,
ABC,
New Order,
Country Teasers,
Lalann,
Urselle,
Minnie Riperton,
Black Sheep,
F. McDonald,
Depeche Mode,
Banda Bassotti,
Neil Young,
Talk Talk,
Ronnie Foster,
Nation of Ulysses,
Chris & Cosey,
Ultimate Spinach,
Glambeats Corp.,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Newcleus,
Darondo,
The United States of America,
Jandek,
Anakelly,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.