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 Pakistan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 Marshall Jefferson to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unwound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Country Teasers,
Lyres,
Drexciya,
Ultra Naté,
Scientists,
The Gories,
Aural Exciters,
Wings,
Bluetip,
the Normal,
Sparks,
The Real Kids,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Monks,
Buzzcocks,
Index,
Camouflage,
Urselle,
Fat Boys,
Rufus Thomas,
Kas Product,
Jeff Mills,
Thee Headcoats,
Unwound,
the Swans,
Altered Images,
The Saints,
Joe Smooth,
Section 25,
Jacques Brel,
Sun City Girls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Mark Hollis,
The Cowsills,
Don Cherry,
Faraquet,
Y Pants,
Black Flag,
D'Angelo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Brand Nubian,
Chris & Cosey,
T.S.O.L.,
Peter and Kerry,
Stetsasonic,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tres Demented,
Excepter,
Joy Division,
Barry Ungar,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Germs,
Deakin,
Organ,
Anakelly,
Half Japanese,
Unrelated Segments,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gang Green,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Black Dice,
48th St. Collective,
Eric Copeland,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.