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 Belize and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Malaria! to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalo Schifrin,
Grey Daturas,
Arab on Radar,
Rakim,
Sight & Sound,
8 Eyed Spy,
Graham Central Station,
Wire,
U.S. Maple,
Spoonie Gee,
Erasure,
The Fuzztones,
Delta 5,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bluetip,
the Fania All-Stars,
Joe Finger,
Bootsy Collins,
The Neon Judgement,
Kaleidoscope,
Spandau Ballet,
a-ha,
the Sonics,
Severed Heads,
Hoover,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Monks,
June Days,
Chrome,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Joy Division,
Little Man,
Saccharine Trust,
Albert Ayler,
Shoche,
Janne Schatter,
The Last Poets,
Ituana,
Lyres,
Mars,
The Gap Band,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ohio Players,
Unwound,
Bobby Sherman,
Tommy Roe,
Country Teasers,
Rosa Yemen,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lou Reed,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Selecter,
Basic Channel,
Quando Quango,
Supertramp,
Don Cherry,
Faust,
The Buckinghams,
Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One.
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.