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 Sri Lanka and from Bologna.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Sao Paulo.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare 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 Cameo to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fugs. All the underground hits.
All DJ Style tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Traffic Nightmare,
Black Pus,
Stiv Bators,
Brick,
David Axelrod,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Loose Ends,
The Invisible,
Soft Cell,
The Techniques,
Gang Starr,
Archie Shepp,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bobby Byrd,
The Alarm Clocks,
Harmonia,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Buckinghams,
Stetsasonic,
Nirvana,
Hot Snakes,
Panda Bear,
These Immortal Souls,
June Days,
Liliput,
Gang of Four,
Outsiders,
Visage,
Henry Cow,
U.S. Maple,
Danielle Patucci,
Easy Going,
China Crisis,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Kinks,
Chris & Cosey,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Inner City,
Byron Stingily,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Names,
Susan Cadogan,
The Searchers,
Urselle,
Brand Nubian,
Shuggie Otis,
The Knickerbockers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Wally Richardson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Minnie Riperton,
The Happenings,
Little Man,
Flash Fearless,
Gong,
Matthew Halsall,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bootsy Collins,
Connie Case,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.