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 Palau and from Stockholm.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 rhodes 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 The Doors to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Cymande,
Bob Dylan,
Ohio Players,
Khruangbin,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Curtis Mayfield,
Public Enemy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
James White and The Blacks,
Johnny Clarke,
Saccharine Trust,
Radio Birdman,
Jesper Dahlback,
Zero Boys,
Mr. Review,
These Immortal Souls,
La Düsseldorf,
Neu!,
Mars,
Black Sheep,
Minnie Riperton,
Avey Tare,
Bobby Byrd,
The Index,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Angels of Light,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sonic Youth,
Underground Resistance,
Max Romeo,
This Heat,
Funky Four + One,
T. Rex,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Aloha Tigers,
Tres Demented,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Roxette,
Q and Not U,
Eddi Front,
Whodini,
Nik Kershaw,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Niagra,
Drive Like Jehu,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scientists,
Brothers Johnson,
The Vogues,
Derrick May,
Althea and Donna,
Suicide,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Neon Judgement,
The Cure,
Jawbox,
Iggy Pop,
Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville.
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.