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 Liechtenstein and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gladiators to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Angry Samoans,
Index,
Livin' Joy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kas Product,
Drexciya,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Skatalites,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Victims,
B.T. Express,
Davy DMX,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Oblivians,
Monks,
Schoolly D,
Peter & Gordon,
Terry Callier,
Warren Ellis,
Jeff Mills,
Audionom,
Stiv Bators,
Crooked Eye,
Scott Walker,
Jawbox,
Bob Dylan,
Shuggie Otis,
Sunsets and Hearts,
La Düsseldorf,
Niagra,
Lalann,
Bush Tetras,
cv313,
Faust,
Ponytail,
Zapp,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
U.S. Maple,
Tomorrow,
Nik Kershaw,
The Durutti Column,
Judy Mowatt,
Peter and Kerry,
The Names,
The Smoke,
Idris Muhammad,
Essential Logic,
Reuben Wilson,
Shoche,
Alison Limerick,
Yellowson,
Soul Sonic Force,
Siglo XX,
Nirvana,
Lalo Schifrin,
John Coltrane,
Donny Hathaway,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Barrington Levy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Motorama,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.