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 Lesotho and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Quadrant to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Goldenarms. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Joyce Sims,
Skriet,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
David McCallum,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jacques Brel,
Desert Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Misunderstood,
H. Thieme,
Sandy B,
Country Teasers,
The Wake,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Albert Ayler,
Outsiders,
Funky Four + One,
Jeff Lynne,
Gil Scott Heron,
Todd Terry,
Parry Music,
Sound Behaviour,
Adolescents,
Panda Bear,
Crime,
Nick Fraelich,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Juan Atkins,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cal Tjader,
Gang Gang Dance,
Saccharine Trust,
The Fire Engines,
Loose Ends,
a-ha,
Tears for Fears,
Con Funk Shun,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pet Shop Boys,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
John Holt,
The Divine Comedy,
The Associates,
Radiohead,
Wally Richardson,
Mantronix,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gregory Isaacs,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rosa Yemen,
Isaac Hayes,
New York Dolls,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lee Hazlewood,
Magma,
Moby Grape,
Kerri Chandler,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Moss Icon,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.