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 Macedonia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Barclay James Harvest to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Sister Nancy,
Colin Newman,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Niagra,
Minny Pops,
Juan Atkins,
Delon & Dalcan,
Frankie Knuckles,
Oneida,
Wolf Eyes,
Radiohead,
Magma,
Davy DMX,
K-Klass,
Sex Pistols,
The Walker Brothers,
Malaria!,
Josef K,
Stereo Dub,
Lungfish,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Audionom,
Section 25,
Brand Nubian,
Carl Craig,
kango's stein massive,
Godley & Creme,
Judy Mowatt,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
F. McDonald,
Agent Orange,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Gladiators,
Technova,
Oblivians,
Gang Green,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nick Fraelich,
Radio Birdman,
Nirvana,
Tomorrow,
R.M.O.,
Ituana,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Motions,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gang Starr,
Babytalk,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Fortunes,
Drexciya,
Cheater Slicks,
Scott Walker,
The J.B.'s,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tommy Roe,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Aural Exciters,
Inner City,
James White and The Blacks,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.