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 Sri Lanka and from New York.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Minnie Riperton to the jazz 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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kayak 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Intrusion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Young Rascals,
The New Christs,
Harmonia,
Talk Talk,
U.S. Maple,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bang On A Can,
Henry Cow,
AZ,
the Normal,
Qualms,
The Fortunes,
The Electric Prunes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kurtis Blow,
Groovy Waters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Babytalk,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jandek,
Pussy Galore,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marshall Jefferson,
Newcleus,
The Names,
The Birthday Party,
Fat Boys,
Scratch Acid,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rakim,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tres Demented,
Sixth Finger,
Arthur Verocai,
Crash Course in Science,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Johnny Clarke,
A Certain Ratio,
The Moody Blues,
The Flesh Eaters,
Alice Coltrane,
Robert Hood,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mars,
Rites of Spring,
X-Ray Spex,
Arcadia,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Michelle Simonal,
Neil Young,
The Monochrome Set,
H. Thieme,
Nation of Ulysses,
Flamin' Groovies,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.