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 Spain and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Idris Muhammad to the grunge 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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David Bowie,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Theoretical Girls,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Mad Mike,
Public Enemy,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Divine Comedy,
Sugar Minott,
Aural Exciters,
The Doors,
Animal Collective,
Joe Finger,
Grandmaster Flash,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Index,
Sexual Harrassment,
Clear Light,
The Saints,
Nik Kershaw,
Marshall Jefferson,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Vainqueur,
Roger Hodgson,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Main Source,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
the Swans,
Ronnie Foster,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Litter,
Gong,
Camouflage,
Pantaleimon,
Mission of Burma,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Modern Lovers,
Kayak,
Au Pairs,
The Neon Judgement,
Livin' Joy,
Warren Ellis,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Slits,
Icehouse,
Subhumans,
Lightning Bolt,
Flipper,
The Names,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Schoolly D,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lebanon Hanover,
Metal Thangz,
Radiopuhelimet,
Eddi Front,
Chris & Cosey,
Siglo XX,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.