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 Haiti and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maurizio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Grey Daturas,
Peter and Kerry,
Mad Mike,
The Fuzztones,
Jesper Dahlback,
Todd Terry,
the Swans,
Nirvana,
Sun Ra,
Black Moon,
Adolescents,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Mummies,
the Normal,
Black Pus,
David McCallum,
The J.B.'s,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ponytail,
Aswad,
David Bowie,
Neu!,
Absolute Body Control,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Monolake,
Sight & Sound,
Sparks,
Hot Snakes,
In Retrospect,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Half Japanese,
Jacob Miller,
Jandek,
Main Source,
Model 500,
UT,
Kerri Chandler,
Howard Jones,
Bush Tetras,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Durutti Column,
Harpers Bizarre,
Shoche,
Susan Cadogan,
Cal Tjader,
the Soft Cell,
Fela Kuti,
Suicide,
This Heat,
Mandrill,
Girls At Our Best!,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Technova,
Swell Maps,
The Residents,
Crooked Eye,
Tears for Fears,
David Axelrod,
Nas,
Chris Corsano,
Faust,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.