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 Micronesia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Cheater Slicks to the rock 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 ABC. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Dawn Penn,
Joe Smooth,
Urselle,
The Alarm Clocks,
New Order,
Royal Trux,
David McCallum,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Last Poets,
Pantaleimon,
Pagans,
Vladislav Delay,
Black Flag,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ponytail,
The Monochrome Set,
Hasil Adkins,
Con Funk Shun,
The Mummies,
Nils Olav,
Mission of Burma,
Gang of Four,
Nik Kershaw,
Radiopuhelimet,
Model 500,
Sun Ra,
10cc,
Dave Gahan,
Letta Mbulu,
The Gap Band,
Kayak,
Pantytec,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sandy B,
Eric B and Rakim,
Traffic Nightmare,
Delta 5,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Godley & Creme,
Flamin' Groovies,
Glenn Branca,
Barry Ungar,
Derrick May,
Dead Boys,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Organ,
Scott Walker,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Visage,
Tomorrow,
Freddie Wadling,
Alton Ellis,
the Swans,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bobby Womack,
Mantronix,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.