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 Tunisia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Chrome to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Sex Pistols,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Altered Images,
Nirvana,
The Raincoats,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Fugs,
Cecil Taylor,
Ohio Players,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Amazonics,
Nik Kershaw,
DNA,
Hoover,
Dawn Penn,
Mad Mike,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
B.T. Express,
Rosa Yemen,
Cheater Slicks,
Throbbing Gristle,
The New Christs,
World's Most,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Guru Guru,
Godley & Creme,
Index,
Amon Düül II,
Mandrill,
Maurizio,
Aswad,
Ronnie Foster,
Eric Copeland,
ABC,
Soft Machine,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sly & The Family Stone,
X-102,
Kaleidoscope,
Soul II Soul,
Scott Walker,
Mark Hollis,
R.M.O.,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bootsy Collins,
The Barracudas,
The Divine Comedy,
PIL,
Marmalade,
Banda Bassotti,
Mission of Burma,
Man Parrish,
Flipper,
Trumans Water,
David McCallum,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marine Girls,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.