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 Lithuania and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Black Bananas to the funk 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 Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick Morgan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amon Düül record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lee Hazlewood,
Japan,
The J.B.'s,
The Remains,
The Fuzztones,
Amon Düül,
PIL,
Newcleus,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ice-T,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Hot Snakes,
Delta 5,
Fear,
Outsiders,
Zero Boys,
The Smiths,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Trumans Water,
DJ Sneak,
John Cale,
Black Flag,
Procol Harum,
Sex Pistols,
June of 44,
Slick Rick,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bill Near,
Swans,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Magma,
Man Eating Sloth,
Throbbing Gristle,
Henry Cow,
Avey Tare,
Ornette Coleman,
The Zeros,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
John Coltrane,
Roger Hodgson,
Deakin,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Kayak,
The Slackers,
Josef K,
The Vogues,
Ten City,
Black Pus,
Rufus Thomas,
Scientists,
Eurythmics,
Oblivians,
Wasted Youth,
Cluster,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Litter,
Excepter,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.