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 Ghana and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 guitar 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 Lindisfarne to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Smog,
Swans,
The Doors,
Motorama,
Danielle Patucci,
Ultra Naté,
The American Breed,
La Düsseldorf,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fugazi,
Angry Samoans,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Moby Grape,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Mojo Men,
Negative Approach,
Depeche Mode,
ABC,
Traffic Nightmare,
Make Up,
The Divine Comedy,
Isaac Hayes,
Black Pus,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bauhaus,
Essential Logic,
Cecil Taylor,
The United States of America,
OOIOO,
Boredoms,
Junior Murvin,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jeff Mills,
Lebanon Hanover,
Harmonia,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Germs,
Slick Rick,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Monochrome Set,
Terry Callier,
Brand Nubian,
Joyce Sims,
The Smiths,
Leonard Cohen,
Letta Mbulu,
Visage,
Man Parrish,
Joensuu 1685,
Y Pants,
The Fugs,
Panda Bear,
Gang of Four,
Gong,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Sound,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sugar Minott,
One Last Wish,
The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds, The Mighty Diamonds.
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.