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 Ireland and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Amon Düül to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neu!,
Los Fastidios,
The Divine Comedy,
Babytalk,
Marshall Jefferson,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sixth Finger,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Zapp,
The United States of America,
Vladislav Delay,
Electric Prunes,
Shuggie Otis,
Faraquet,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bronski Beat,
Crime,
The Evens,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Flipper,
Traffic Nightmare,
U.S. Maple,
Skarface,
Chrome,
Panda Bear,
The Cowsills,
Eric Copeland,
Ronan,
Kaleidoscope,
the Association,
The Busters,
Patti Smith,
John Lydon,
Mission of Burma,
DNA,
The Fire Engines,
Frankie Knuckles,
Essential Logic,
Spoonie Gee,
Smog,
The Happenings,
Groovy Waters,
Pantytec,
Dead Boys,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Freddie Wadling,
Godley & Creme,
Suburban Knight,
Flash Fearless,
Tom Boy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Swell Maps,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lalann,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Faust,
Desert Stars,
Gong,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Tears for Fears,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.