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 Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sex Pistols to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yaz 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?
Rufus Thomas,
Avey Tare,
Bill Wells,
Monks,
The Buckinghams,
Pantaleimon,
Barrington Levy,
The Walker Brothers,
Desert Stars,
The American Breed,
Royal Trux,
Guru Guru,
Morten Harket,
DNA,
Bang On A Can,
The Wake,
Jesper Dahlback,
Maurizio,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Black Bananas,
Alphaville,
Matthew Bourne,
Second Layer,
Unwound,
Zapp,
Sonic Youth,
The Electric Prunes,
Hoover,
Main Source,
Wire,
The Busters,
Junior Murvin,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Neu!,
Infiniti,
The Velvet Underground,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Real Kids,
Sex Pistols,
The Move,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Soft Cell,
Lucky Dragons,
Ohio Players,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Fugs,
Sixth Finger,
Terry Callier,
Ludus,
Faust,
Godley & Creme,
Grey Daturas,
Hot Snakes,
the Sonics,
June Days,
Danielle Patucci,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Peter and Kerry,
Black Moon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
John Foxx,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.