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 Georgia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Lou Reed 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 Pantytec to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Heaven 17,
Yusef Lateef,
Chris & Cosey,
The Human League,
Sam Rivers,
June of 44,
Black Bananas,
Marc Almond,
The Kinks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bob Dylan,
Mr. Review,
Byron Stingily,
Grandmaster Flash,
Patti Smith,
Wings,
The Golliwogs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Brothers Johnson,
Janne Schatter,
Y Pants,
Dave Gahan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pierre Henry,
Alison Limerick,
Arab on Radar,
Bluetip,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Eddi Front,
The Invisible,
Black Pus,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Toasters,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lyres,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tears for Fears,
Scientists,
Slave,
Leonard Cohen,
The Black Dice,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Fall,
Man Eating Sloth,
John Lydon,
Pussy Galore,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Litter,
Ossler,
Donald Byrd,
Dennis Brown,
Whodini,
Banda Bassotti,
Jeff Mills,
Jesper Dahlback,
Hot Snakes,
Harmonia,
The Saints,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Dirtbombs,
The Sonics,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.