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 Djibouti and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Milan.
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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Absolute Body Control to the funk 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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
Bang On A Can,
The Skatalites,
Animal Collective,
Arcadia,
the Germs,
Ohio Players,
Groovy Waters,
Ludus,
Harry Pussy,
Avey Tare,
June of 44,
The Fortunes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Wasted Youth,
Skriet,
Infiniti,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Sound,
Hoover,
Intrusion,
The Residents,
Arthur Verocai,
Nick Fraelich,
Cameo,
Matthew Bourne,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Agent Orange,
ABBA,
Section 25,
Albert Ayler,
Leonard Cohen,
Boredoms,
Echospace,
Masters at Work,
John Cale,
Boz Scaggs,
Loose Ends,
Eric Dolphy,
Magazine,
Deepchord,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Last Poets,
Idris Muhammad,
Babytalk,
Marshall Jefferson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Faust,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Smiths,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
La Düsseldorf,
Gang Green,
Fat Boys,
Roy Ayers,
Sarah Menescal,
Little Man,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Soft Cell,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.