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 Liechtenstein and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 arpeggiator 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 Tubeway Army to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erasure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Smog,
Hasil Adkins,
Robert Hood,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Camouflage,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mary Jane Girls,
Skriet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Alice Coltrane,
Laurel Aitken,
The Mummies,
Trumans Water,
Bad Manners,
Chris & Cosey,
Swans,
The Mojo Men,
Sällskapet,
Pulsallama,
PIL,
Archie Shepp,
UT,
Absolute Body Control,
Siglo XX,
Ultimate Spinach,
Heaven 17,
The Electric Prunes,
Ohio Players,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Martian,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mr. Review,
Stetsasonic,
The Residents,
Lindisfarne,
Yazoo,
Porter Ricks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Cecil Taylor,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sexual Harrassment,
Barbara Tucker,
Soft Cell,
Marvin Gaye,
D'Angelo,
Q65,
Juan Atkins,
Magazine,
Lyres,
Deakin,
MC5,
Unrelated Segments,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rakim,
Nik Kershaw,
In Retrospect,
Gichy Dan,
The Leaves,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.