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 Slovakia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Fall to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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?
Matthew Bourne,
Soul II Soul,
Eve St. Jones,
Crime,
the Soft Cell,
Monolake,
Lyres,
MDC,
Chrome,
Lalann,
Youth Brigade,
Skriet,
Grauzone,
Gichy Dan,
New York Dolls,
Michelle Simonal,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Banda Bassotti,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jimmy McGriff,
Silicon Teens,
Gong,
Johnny Clarke,
The Motions,
The Remains,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pylon,
Lee Hazlewood,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Glenn Branca,
Suicide,
Khruangbin,
Public Image Ltd.,
Howard Jones,
The Residents,
Ronnie Foster,
The Raincoats,
UT,
The Monochrome Set,
The Music Machine,
Don Cherry,
Godley & Creme,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ornette Coleman,
Jerry's Kids,
Connie Case,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Electric Prunes,
Section 25,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Jawbox,
Lindisfarne,
Unwound,
Barbara Tucker,
Simply Red,
Amon Düül II,
Grey Daturas,
Girls At Our Best!,
Judy Mowatt,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.