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 Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Holger Czukay 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the funk 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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Icehouse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Excepter,
Johnny Osbourne,
Make Up,
Neil Young,
Black Sheep,
Nas,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Saints,
Robert Wyatt,
The Sound,
Kerri Chandler,
Bronski Beat,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Hoover,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Standells,
David Axelrod,
Bluetip,
Rakim,
The Leaves,
The Young Rascals,
Mission of Burma,
Archie Shepp,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Junior Murvin,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cowsills,
The Gun Club,
The Blues Magoos,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marmalade,
Moss Icon,
Popol Vuh,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Unrelated Segments,
Severed Heads,
The Cure,
Henry Cow,
Grey Daturas,
Janne Schatter,
The Remains,
Arthur Verocai,
The Vogues,
Suicide,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rufus Thomas,
Mars,
Half Japanese,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mantronix,
Gabor Szabo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
UT,
The Flesh Eaters,
Warsaw,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Groovy Waters,
Mandrill,
The Fall,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.