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 Bangladesh and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Rekid to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Duran Duran record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
H. Thieme,
Bob Dylan,
Subhumans,
Inner City,
the Swans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Skaos,
Public Image Ltd.,
ABC,
Slave,
John Lydon,
The Doobie Brothers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Arthur Verocai,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Flipper,
T.S.O.L.,
Second Layer,
Echospace,
Derrick Morgan,
Glambeats Corp.,
Don Cherry,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Roger Hodgson,
OOIOO,
Country Teasers,
Dennis Brown,
Crispian St. Peters,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Aural Exciters,
Tres Demented,
The Skatalites,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Real Kids,
Tommy Roe,
Cecil Taylor,
Ralphi Rosario,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Scrapy,
Sarah Menescal,
Terrestrial Tones,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Spoonie Gee,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sound Behaviour,
Funkadelic,
Magma,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Wake,
Eli Mardock,
Rakim,
Monks,
Fela Kuti,
The Cowsills,
Grauzone,
The Fire Engines,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rites of Spring,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.