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 Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Unwound to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Joensuu 1685 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grauzone record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
Henry Cow,
Oblivians,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Public Image Ltd.,
Harry Pussy,
Dark Day,
the Sonics,
Bobby Sherman,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
DNA,
Boogie Down Productions,
Avey Tare,
The Monochrome Set,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Motions,
The Victims,
Ten City,
Drexciya,
The Birthday Party,
Steve Hackett,
Traffic Nightmare,
Graham Central Station,
The Fire Engines,
Interpol,
Stereo Dub,
Duran Duran,
Yellowson,
Simply Red,
Kenny Larkin,
Marine Girls,
The Fugs,
Das Ding,
Jawbox,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tommy Roe,
The Fuzztones,
Dual Sessions,
Hardrive,
CMW,
Wings,
Warsaw,
Yazoo,
X-Ray Spex,
Joey Negro,
The Last Poets,
Fluxion,
Intrusion,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Busters,
Kurtis Blow,
Surgeon,
Crispy Ambulance,
F. McDonald,
Swell Maps,
Fela Kuti,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Eve St. Jones,
The Fortunes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.