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 Burkina and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Pantytec to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
The Selecter,
Camouflage,
Michelle Simonal,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sun Ra,
Don Cherry,
Gastr Del Sol,
New Order,
The Fugs,
X-Ray Spex,
Pulsallama,
Can,
Black Moon,
The Wake,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Neu!,
Freddie Wadling,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Q and Not U,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Kinks,
Loose Ends,
Surgeon,
Lucky Dragons,
Rod Modell,
F. McDonald,
The Blackbyrds,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
In Retrospect,
Vladislav Delay,
The Gun Club,
Model 500,
Youth Brigade,
Crime,
Lower 48,
Albert Ayler,
Crispy Ambulance,
James White and The Blacks,
Harry Pussy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bobby Sherman,
Black Flag,
Clear Light,
Morten Harket,
Monolake,
Kas Product,
Organ,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Invisible,
Blake Baxter,
The Real Kids,
Crash Course in Science,
Deepchord,
The Raincoats,
Colin Newman,
The Beau Brummels,
Groovy Waters,
Panda Bear,
Todd Rundgren,
The Misunderstood,
Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images.
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.