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 Somalia and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba 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 Colin Newman to the techno 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Subhumans 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 spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Metal Thangz,
Sam Rivers,
The Litter,
Brothers Johnson,
Nirvana,
Henry Cow,
Sixth Finger,
Chris Corsano,
Moebius,
Sister Nancy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Evens,
Loose Ends,
Can,
Agent Orange,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Buckinghams,
Ludus,
Scion,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Fire Engines,
Neil Young,
Pere Ubu,
Scientists,
Kerrie Biddell,
Oneida,
Wolf Eyes,
Fugazi,
Warren Ellis,
The Doors,
This Heat,
The Fortunes,
Avey Tare,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Soft Cell,
Gregory Isaacs,
Moss Icon,
Ituana,
Television Personalities,
Monolake,
Theoretical Girls,
The Misunderstood,
Jeru the Damaja,
Outsiders,
Public Image Ltd.,
Laurel Aitken,
Robert Hood,
Barry Ungar,
Ultravox,
Model 500,
Gong,
The Alarm Clocks,
Nas,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Standells,
Trumans Water,
Suicide,
Tears for Fears,
Swans,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.