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 Denmark and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Severed Heads to the electroclash 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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joy Division 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lou Reed,
Organ,
The United States of America,
Country Teasers,
Eli Mardock,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Reuben Wilson,
Lungfish,
the Swans,
The Pop Group,
Nick Fraelich,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Slave,
Slick Rick,
Monolake,
Dead Boys,
Alison Limerick,
Donald Byrd,
Scientists,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Faust,
Neil Young,
Angry Samoans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Y Pants,
Sonny Sharrock,
Barrington Levy,
Sparks,
Porter Ricks,
Ornette Coleman,
Zero Boys,
Robert Wyatt,
Kevin Saunderson,
Tropical Tobacco,
Brass Construction,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Swans,
The Techniques,
Drexciya,
The Sonics,
Dennis Brown,
Franke,
The Martian,
Motorama,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eve St. Jones,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lower 48,
The Raincoats,
Kerri Chandler,
Rekid,
Iggy Pop,
Ken Boothe,
The Vogues,
Arab on Radar,
Pharoah Sanders,
New York Dolls,
Rosa Yemen,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.