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 Switzerland and from Lagos.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manchester.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Funkadelic to the crunk 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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Roxette,
Crispy Ambulance,
Althea and Donna,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Saints,
Y Pants,
Moby Grape,
The Grass Roots,
The Happenings,
Mars,
Stockholm Monsters,
FM Einheit,
Anakelly,
Kerri Chandler,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Thee Headcoats,
Maleditus Sound,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Buckinghams,
Essential Logic,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bobby Sherman,
Howard Jones,
Scion,
Magazine,
Todd Rundgren,
Negative Approach,
In Retrospect,
Morten Harket,
Loose Ends,
Alice Coltrane,
David Bowie,
The Toasters,
Monolake,
Drive Like Jehu,
ABC,
Tubeway Army,
Saccharine Trust,
Echospace,
The Young Rascals,
Crash Course in Science,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nils Olav,
Davy DMX,
The Alarm Clocks,
John Cale,
The Wake,
Jesper Dahlback,
Michelle Simonal,
Blossom Toes,
H. Thieme,
Sound Behaviour,
Sällskapet,
Bang On A Can,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Misunderstood,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.