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 Iraq and from London.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Electric Prunes to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sex Pistols,
Tom Boy,
Ronnie Foster,
Mad Mike,
H. Thieme,
Nik Kershaw,
F. McDonald,
Barry Ungar,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
E-Dancer,
Darondo,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Germs,
The Slits,
Ronan,
Marmalade,
Zero Boys,
Steve Hackett,
Mantronix,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Roxy Music,
Minnie Riperton,
The Pretty Things,
Kas Product,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jandek,
Essential Logic,
kango's stein massive,
DJ Style,
Lalann,
Todd Rundgren,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dark Day,
Basic Channel,
Vainqueur,
the Sonics,
Jawbox,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Names,
Warsaw,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gerry Rafferty,
Brothers Johnson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ken Boothe,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Idris Muhammad,
Thee Headcoats,
Unrelated Segments,
Y Pants,
Dawn Penn,
Kevin Saunderson,
June Days,
The Offenders,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Zeros,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.