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 Guinea and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Country Teasers to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Lightning Bolt,
Black Flag,
Gang Starr,
Tommy Roe,
Girls At Our Best!,
Blancmange,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Albert Ayler,
E-Dancer,
Ultravox,
Yaz,
OOIOO,
Jeff Lynne,
The Dirtbombs,
Sister Nancy,
Subhumans,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
New York Dolls,
The Blackbyrds,
Deepchord,
The Cure,
Black Sheep,
Drexciya,
Tom Boy,
Suicide,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Dead C,
The Wake,
The Cramps,
Moby Grape,
The Slits,
Nico,
Crooked Eye,
Bluetip,
DJ Style,
Throbbing Gristle,
Stetsasonic,
Janne Schatter,
Simply Red,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rod Modell,
cv313,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Skatalites,
Joe Finger,
Youth Brigade,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
John Foxx,
Minny Pops,
Erasure,
Eve St. Jones,
Ohio Players,
Scion,
Sex Pistols,
Yellowson,
The Buckinghams,
kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive, kango's stein massive.
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.