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 Kyrgyzstan and from Stockholm.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lyon.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Mission of Burma to the jazz 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 the Germs. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultravox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Copeland,
The Monochrome Set,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Shadows of Knight,
Barbara Tucker,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Country Teasers,
Brick,
The Vogues,
Bluetip,
Hoover,
Siglo XX,
Jawbox,
Shuggie Otis,
Pagans,
Steve Hackett,
Infiniti,
Inner City,
The Golliwogs,
Schoolly D,
Terrestrial Tones,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Loose Ends,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Residents,
New Order,
The Electric Prunes,
The Gap Band,
Pierre Henry,
Judy Mowatt,
Letta Mbulu,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Faust,
Piero Umiliani,
Josef K,
One Last Wish,
Average White Band,
Ohio Players,
Talk Talk,
Aaron Thompson,
Gichy Dan,
The Toasters,
K-Klass,
Amon Düül,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fatback Band,
Hasil Adkins,
Simply Red,
Althea and Donna,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Gun Club,
The Smoke,
John Cale,
The Cowsills,
Nils Olav,
Joyce Sims,
Sparks,
Henry Cow,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Bar-Kays,
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear.
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.