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 Denmark and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 sitar 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 Grass Roots to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Hashim. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonic Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
The Last Poets,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Moleskins,
World's Most,
Soft Cell,
The Raincoats,
The Black Dice,
Bill Wells,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Carl Craig,
June of 44,
Deakin,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Warsaw,
Adolescents,
Easy Going,
The Divine Comedy,
the Slits,
Idris Muhammad,
Blossom Toes,
EPMD,
The Tremeloes,
Vladislav Delay,
Marcia Griffiths,
New Age Steppers,
Donald Byrd,
The Angels of Light,
Girls At Our Best!,
Inner City,
Delta 5,
the Germs,
Faraquet,
Glenn Branca,
Sister Nancy,
Laurel Aitken,
Intrusion,
the Soft Cell,
Tears for Fears,
Jeff Lynne,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Zapp,
The Monks,
Henry Cow,
Peter and Kerry,
Tres Demented,
Ossler,
June Days,
The Invisible,
Lee Hazlewood,
H. Thieme,
Gang Gang Dance,
Neu!,
Cluster,
Wolf Eyes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scion,
Prince Buster,
Con Funk Shun,
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.