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 Niger and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 marimba 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 Hoover to the rap 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 John Foxx. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Goldenarms,
Warsaw,
kango's stein massive,
Yazoo,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Marine Girls,
Bauhaus,
Technova,
The Slits,
Sandy B,
Brothers Johnson,
Newcleus,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Carl Craig,
Susan Cadogan,
This Heat,
The Real Kids,
Sound Behaviour,
Motorama,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Roy Ayers,
Sister Nancy,
Rekid,
Connie Case,
Jandek,
Subhumans,
Outsiders,
Icehouse,
Oneida,
Make Up,
Bootsy Collins,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Darondo,
Underground Resistance,
Lindisfarne,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dead Boys,
Man Parrish,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kenny Larkin,
Excepter,
Magma,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Robert Wyatt,
the Swans,
MC5,
Basic Channel,
Pere Ubu,
Jawbox,
Hasil Adkins,
Kayak,
Country Teasers,
Boredoms,
Oblivians,
Ken Boothe,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.