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 Eritrea and from Copenhagen.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the funk 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 The Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bauhaus 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Severed Heads,
David Bowie,
Panda Bear,
Spandau Ballet,
Colin Newman,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Victims,
F. McDonald,
Second Layer,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Doobie Brothers,
Drexciya,
The Knickerbockers,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Rotary Connection,
Joy Division,
The Golliwogs,
The Smoke,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pet Shop Boys,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dark Day,
June of 44,
Hashim,
The Young Rascals,
Marine Girls,
Mr. Review,
Barbara Tucker,
Wolf Eyes,
Qualms,
Traffic Nightmare,
Intrusion,
Dawn Penn,
Average White Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fela Kuti,
Bill Near,
Pagans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Buzzcocks,
Underground Resistance,
Crime,
Kenny Larkin,
Blancmange,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Make Up,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Kinks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Das Ding,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Delon & Dalcan,
Visage,
Scion,
The Five Americans,
Schoolly D,
Todd Terry,
The Toasters,
The Slackers,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.