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 Mali and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
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 The Walker Brothers to the crunk 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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
The Blues Magoos,
X-Ray Spex,
Malaria!,
Make Up,
Faust,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sonic Youth,
Audionom,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Anakelly,
a-ha,
E-Dancer,
Rakim,
David Bowie,
June of 44,
The Remains,
Rosa Yemen,
Danielle Patucci,
Zero Boys,
Eden Ahbez,
Hashim,
Ludus,
Buzzcocks,
Ultravox,
Black Moon,
Can,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Aaron Thompson,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bill Wells,
Black Bananas,
Spoonie Gee,
the Bar-Kays,
Hot Snakes,
Bootsy Collins,
Sun City Girls,
Nik Kershaw,
Pagans,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Tremeloes,
Smog,
The Stooges,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
David Axelrod,
Tim Buckley,
Grauzone,
Wolf Eyes,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Last Poets,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Idris Muhammad,
Barbara Tucker,
The Raincoats,
The Slits,
Model 500,
The Star Department,
The Young Rascals,
Cheater Slicks,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.