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 Syria and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mexico City.
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 guitar 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 Byron Stingily to the rap 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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nirvana 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 an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Evens,
Ituana,
Brand Nubian,
Half Japanese,
Scan 7,
Lou Christie,
Fat Boys,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Radiopuhelimet,
Joyce Sims,
Massinfluence,
Althea and Donna,
Charles Mingus,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Underground Resistance,
FM Einheit,
Mission of Burma,
Todd Terry,
Man Parrish,
Eden Ahbez,
The Move,
Blake Baxter,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bauhaus,
Oneida,
Parry Music,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bobby Womack,
Leonard Cohen,
Can,
Pierre Henry,
Animal Collective,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Roger Hodgson,
Quando Quango,
Godley & Creme,
Ken Boothe,
Bang On A Can,
Grey Daturas,
The Cowsills,
Tomorrow,
Black Bananas,
Roxette,
Robert Görl,
Sight & Sound,
The Fuzztones,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Howard Jones,
Donald Byrd,
Minnie Riperton,
Hot Snakes,
The Gladiators,
Derrick Morgan,
Sister Nancy,
Nik Kershaw,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.