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 Argentina and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Crooked Eye to the techno 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
The Offenders,
The Smiths,
Tomorrow,
Sandy B,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Roxy Music,
Jawbox,
Letta Mbulu,
Nation of Ulysses,
DJ Style,
Anakelly,
The Fire Engines,
The Last Poets,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Tremeloes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ultra Naté,
Gabor Szabo,
Neil Young,
Sarah Menescal,
Parry Music,
Dark Day,
Black Flag,
Freddie Wadling,
The Doors,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lou Christie,
Delon & Dalcan,
Davy DMX,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Fortunes,
Rapeman,
Drexciya,
Y Pants,
Thee Headcoats,
Guru Guru,
Agent Orange,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lyres,
The Five Americans,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Albert Ayler,
Quantec,
The Searchers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wings,
Kaleidoscope,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Mummies,
Sparks,
Ohio Players,
Pagans,
Intrusion,
New Age Steppers,
Nick Fraelich,
Bad Manners,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
Panda Bear,
Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall.
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.