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 Guinea-Bissau and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Sisters of Mercy to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bluetip,
MDC,
Kenny Larkin,
Ultra Naté,
Siglo XX,
Stiv Bators,
Funkadelic,
Easy Going,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Count Five,
Organ,
Boz Scaggs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kaleidoscope,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ludus,
Dorothy Ashby,
Darondo,
Motorama,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Leaves,
The Monks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Chrome,
Yellowson,
Brothers Johnson,
Pharoah Sanders,
Crooked Eye,
Junior Murvin,
Camberwell Now,
Cybotron,
Panda Bear,
Kerri Chandler,
X-102,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
China Crisis,
Arthur Verocai,
Electric Prunes,
Leonard Cohen,
Zapp,
Scion,
PIL,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ohio Players,
Boogie Down Productions,
Depeche Mode,
John Lydon,
Little Man,
Black Flag,
B.T. Express,
New Age Steppers,
Grey Daturas,
Gang of Four,
Neu!,
Johnny Clarke,
Moebius,
Grandmaster Flash,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.