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 Cambodia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Stooges to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gichy Dan. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Groovy Waters,
Public Image Ltd.,
Cabaret Voltaire,
DNA,
Bootsy Collins,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lee Hazlewood,
June of 44,
Sugar Minott,
Letta Mbulu,
Bill Near,
Bad Manners,
Crooked Eye,
The Index,
Bronski Beat,
The Neon Judgement,
Crispian St. Peters,
Procol Harum,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lower 48,
Spoonie Gee,
Rosa Yemen,
Skriet,
Crime,
Blossom Toes,
The Leaves,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Radiohead,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Slits,
Absolute Body Control,
Harry Pussy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ohio Players,
Black Bananas,
Minutemen,
Donald Byrd,
Brick,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
John Lydon,
Little Man,
Severed Heads,
Deakin,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Flash Fearless,
Minny Pops,
Supertramp,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jacob Miller,
Ultravox,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sparks,
Kurtis Blow,
Jandek,
Ossler,
Angry Samoans,
Section 25,
Brand Nubian,
Boredoms,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.