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 Brazil and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 chamberlin 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 Letta Mbulu to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sonic Youth. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Blancmange,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jacob Miller,
the Sonics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ronan,
The Smoke,
Lightning Bolt,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Magma,
Arthur Verocai,
Urselle,
Mad Mike,
Thompson Twins,
Qualms,
Pharoah Sanders,
Max Romeo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Crispy Ambulance,
The American Breed,
Fluxion,
Carl Craig,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Jeff Lynne,
Cameo,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Young Rascals,
The Stooges,
Moby Grape,
T. Rex,
The Martian,
Gabor Szabo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bush Tetras,
The Velvet Underground,
Ralphi Rosario,
Albert Ayler,
Pylon,
Deepchord,
Rufus Thomas,
Cabaret Voltaire,
A Flock of Seagulls,
In Retrospect,
Little Man,
John Cale,
Bauhaus,
Con Funk Shun,
The Moody Blues,
Stockholm Monsters,
Flash Fearless,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Aloha Tigers,
Jeru the Damaja,
X-102,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.