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 Cape Verde and from Jakarta.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Scratch Acid to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar 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 American Breed,
Byron Stingily,
the Germs,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
U.S. Maple,
UT,
The Martian,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Pretty Things,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rod Modell,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gregory Isaacs,
Robert Hood,
The Barracudas,
The Young Rascals,
Kenny Larkin,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
48th St. Collective,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gichy Dan,
Soft Cell,
Sun Ra,
The Music Machine,
Skaos,
Maleditus Sound,
Althea and Donna,
Brick,
JFA,
Nils Olav,
Fad Gadget,
Liliput,
Jeru the Damaja,
DNA,
X-101,
Visage,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bootsy Collins,
Icehouse,
Sarah Menescal,
Black Moon,
Crispian St. Peters,
LL Cool J,
10cc,
Excepter,
Ohio Players,
Sight & Sound,
Sexual Harrassment,
John Foxx,
Albert Ayler,
Suburban Knight,
Japan,
Sound Behaviour,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cheater Slicks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Carl Craig,
The Star Department,
Y Pants,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.