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 Jamaica and from New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Michael McDonald 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 Red Krayola to the crunk 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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin 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?
Aloha Tigers,
Eden Ahbez,
Television Personalities,
Kayak,
Derrick Morgan,
Jeff Lynne,
Barbara Tucker,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Motions,
The Divine Comedy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Excepter,
Sun City Girls,
Thee Headcoats,
The Move,
Graham Central Station,
Barclay James Harvest,
Yazoo,
Malaria!,
Arcadia,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rapeman,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Thompson Twins,
Qualms,
Easy Going,
Gichy Dan,
The Slackers,
Ituana,
Faust,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bobby Sherman,
New Age Steppers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Liliput,
Nick Fraelich,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Black Bananas,
Cecil Taylor,
Gong,
Scan 7,
The Skatalites,
DJ Style,
EPMD,
Simply Red,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kevin Saunderson,
Tim Buckley,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ornette Coleman,
Can,
Neu!,
Lakeside,
Index,
Inner City,
Sixth Finger,
Camouflage,
David Axelrod,
Sam Rivers,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.