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 Tanzania and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Searchers 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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Jandek,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Agent Orange,
Harmonia,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Victims,
The Beau Brummels,
Monks,
Sun City Girls,
The Mummies,
Dorothy Ashby,
FM Einheit,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crispy Ambulance,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Gladiators,
Drive Like Jehu,
Faraquet,
the Normal,
Quadrant,
Lou Christie,
Brothers Johnson,
Brick,
Girls At Our Best!,
Nas,
Jawbox,
Traffic Nightmare,
Byron Stingily,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Echospace,
Donny Hathaway,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kayak,
Livin' Joy,
Soul II Soul,
Hasil Adkins,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Hot Snakes,
Ice-T,
Rites of Spring,
Janne Schatter,
Tropical Tobacco,
Grauzone,
Minor Threat,
Gong,
Pole,
These Immortal Souls,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Slick Rick,
Chris & Cosey,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Derrick May,
Ultra Naté,
La Düsseldorf,
Lungfish,
Tommy Roe,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sandy B,
KRS-One,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.