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 Bulgaria and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bill Wells to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Youth Brigade,
Public Image Ltd.,
Angry Samoans,
Basic Channel,
Blancmange,
Jerry's Kids,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Smoke,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cluster,
Neil Young,
Royal Trux,
Kenny Larkin,
Kevin Saunderson,
Joe Finger,
Lou Christie,
Smog,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Prince Buster,
Dual Sessions,
Suicide,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kerri Chandler,
Nirvana,
Radio Birdman,
Suburban Knight,
La Düsseldorf,
Max Romeo,
The Cure,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Alarm Clocks,
Saccharine Trust,
Roger Hodgson,
Y Pants,
The Blackbyrds,
Porter Ricks,
Popol Vuh,
Pet Shop Boys,
Danielle Patucci,
The Misunderstood,
Funkadelic,
K-Klass,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Mission of Burma,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gong,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Cramps,
ABC,
Toni Rubio,
DJ Style,
Amazonics,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Roy Ayers,
Mr. Review,
Severed Heads,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eurythmics,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.