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 Vietnam and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 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 Charles Mingus to the dance 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 The Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Happenings,
Leonard Cohen,
Bauhaus,
Altered Images,
Bobby Womack,
Jawbox,
The Standells,
Dawn Penn,
Stetsasonic,
a-ha,
Ken Boothe,
The Beau Brummels,
Agitation Free,
The Alarm Clocks,
Maleditus Sound,
The American Breed,
The Mojo Men,
Cluster,
Dead Boys,
Black Sheep,
Blake Baxter,
U.S. Maple,
Aloha Tigers,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Glenn Branca,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pere Ubu,
Harpers Bizarre,
Harmonia,
Mission of Burma,
AZ,
Porter Ricks,
Maurizio,
The Blackbyrds,
Graham Central Station,
Joe Finger,
Terrestrial Tones,
Simply Red,
Von Mondo,
Tomorrow,
Young Marble Giants,
the Association,
The Durutti Column,
Gil Scott Heron,
World's Most,
Unwound,
Masters at Work,
Negative Approach,
Lakeside,
Los Fastidios,
Lyres,
Whodini,
Silicon Teens,
The Invisible,
La Düsseldorf,
The Evens,
Brothers Johnson,
MDC,
Electric Prunes,
10cc,
The Music Machine,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.