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 Greece and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 oboe 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 Arthur Verocai to the crunk 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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Crash Course in Science,
The Sonics,
The Young Rascals,
Piero Umiliani,
Desert Stars,
Bob Dylan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Chris & Cosey,
Letta Mbulu,
Funkadelic,
Frankie Knuckles,
Black Flag,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Barrington Levy,
Scrapy,
Spandau Ballet,
The Fire Engines,
Aaron Thompson,
UT,
Al Stewart,
Blossom Toes,
Oneida,
Sunsets and Hearts,
June Days,
June of 44,
John Cale,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sun City Girls,
Moss Icon,
Freddie Wadling,
Dennis Brown,
Groovy Waters,
Bill Wells,
The Pop Group,
Yaz,
The Litter,
the Slits,
Wally Richardson,
The Neon Judgement,
Lungfish,
Fatback Band,
Mo-Dettes,
The Modern Lovers,
The Dirtbombs,
Drive Like Jehu,
Metal Thangz,
Arcadia,
Yellowson,
Animal Collective,
The Busters,
Oblivians,
Harmonia,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Grauzone,
Amon Düül II,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rosa Yemen,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
F. McDonald,
Angry Samoans,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.