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 Croatia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Kayak to the funk 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 Martian. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Magma,
ABC,
Vainqueur,
H. Thieme,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Agent Orange,
Pylon,
Whodini,
Suicide,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gang of Four,
Juan Atkins,
Saccharine Trust,
Chrome,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Wolf Eyes,
Albert Ayler,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
DJ Sneak,
Archie Shepp,
Althea and Donna,
Easy Going,
Vladislav Delay,
Bootsy Collins,
Stereo Dub,
Piero Umiliani,
Matthew Bourne,
Jerry's Kids,
JFA,
Amon Düül,
The Neon Judgement,
Scott Walker,
Inner City,
Tomorrow,
Nik Kershaw,
the Human League,
Joy Division,
The Dead C,
Blake Baxter,
Fad Gadget,
Warsaw,
Man Parrish,
Hasil Adkins,
Johnny Osbourne,
Technova,
Con Funk Shun,
Jimmy McGriff,
Crispian St. Peters,
Qualms,
Metal Thangz,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gang Starr,
Pole,
Sixth Finger,
Pantaleimon,
Ice-T,
Lalann,
Radiopuhelimet,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Masters at Work,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.