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 Somalia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Houston.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Brothers Johnson to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Raincoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Angry Samoans,
Jeff Mills,
Sällskapet,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Harmonia,
Eric Copeland,
Gastr Del Sol,
Man Eating Sloth,
Cluster,
kango's stein massive,
The Detroit Cobras,
Amon Düül,
Arab on Radar,
Colin Newman,
Amazonics,
Grauzone,
Marshall Jefferson,
Donald Byrd,
Wolf Eyes,
The Moody Blues,
the Slits,
The Gun Club,
Supertramp,
Brass Construction,
Maleditus Sound,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Black Dice,
Tommy Roe,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ponytail,
Terrestrial Tones,
Young Marble Giants,
The Selecter,
Dave Gahan,
Ice-T,
Eddi Front,
Blossom Toes,
Pole,
Yazoo,
Nik Kershaw,
Sarah Menescal,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Siglo XX,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Eric Dolphy,
Theoretical Girls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Durutti Column,
Black Moon,
Tom Boy,
Sam Rivers,
Man Parrish,
the Normal,
Junior Murvin,
Stiv Bators,
One Last Wish,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Suburban Knight,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.