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 Chile and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the snare 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 Oneida to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Joe Smooth,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Oneida,
La Düsseldorf,
a-ha,
Minutemen,
Au Pairs,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Electric Prunes,
Jeff Lynne,
the Swans,
Suicide,
The J.B.'s,
The Fortunes,
Tubeway Army,
Josef K,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gastr Del Sol,
Moss Icon,
Boz Scaggs,
Parry Music,
Negative Approach,
The Birthday Party,
The Velvet Underground,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Arcadia,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Index,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sparks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Morten Harket,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Cure,
Lakeside,
Aaron Thompson,
Neu!,
Cecil Taylor,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Evens,
Reuben Wilson,
Saccharine Trust,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Doors,
James White and The Blacks,
The Slits,
Sonic Youth,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lou Christie,
Drexciya,
The Residents,
Lightning Bolt,
Thee Headcoats,
Half Japanese,
The Human League,
Bush Tetras,
Camberwell Now,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.