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 Hungary and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 spring reverb 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 Theoretical Girls to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims 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 spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scan 7 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
Crash Course in Science,
Outsiders,
Yazoo,
Liliput,
Siglo XX,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Underground Resistance,
K-Klass,
Sandy B,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marc Almond,
Model 500,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
New York Dolls,
Mr. Review,
Nico,
Faraquet,
The Knickerbockers,
Jawbox,
Supertramp,
Camberwell Now,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Cameo,
The Moody Blues,
Gabor Szabo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Fuzztones,
DNA,
Pole,
Dead Boys,
The Neon Judgement,
The Beau Brummels,
Funkadelic,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Fortunes,
Oblivians,
The Young Rascals,
Arthur Verocai,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deepchord,
The Dirtbombs,
The Monks,
Hashim,
Dark Day,
Brass Construction,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Masters at Work,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
X-Ray Spex,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Livin' Joy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Clear Light,
Todd Terry,
Bill Wells,
Fad Gadget,
Wire,
Carl Craig,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.