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 Israel and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 marimba 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 Lalo Schifrin to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Shadows of Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Unwound,
The Last Poets,
Morten Harket,
The Velvet Underground,
DJ Sneak,
Mr. Review,
the Swans,
Khruangbin,
Spandau Ballet,
Liliput,
The Monks,
The Remains,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Animal Collective,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wings,
Parry Music,
Girls At Our Best!,
Japan,
Cecil Taylor,
Danielle Patucci,
La Düsseldorf,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lucky Dragons,
Funky Four + One,
The Moleskins,
Model 500,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sällskapet,
Deadbeat,
Rhythm & Sound,
China Crisis,
Susan Cadogan,
Yellowson,
The Slits,
Moss Icon,
The Angels of Light,
Lightning Bolt,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tres Demented,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kevin Saunderson,
The New Christs,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Faraquet,
Mandrill,
Jacob Miller,
Cal Tjader,
FM Einheit,
Sound Behaviour,
Wasted Youth,
Skaos,
Graham Central Station,
Heaven 17,
Zapp,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sandy B,
Pantaleimon,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.