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 Gabon and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 Crispian St. Peters to the funk 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 Black Flag. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
Eli Mardock,
Icehouse,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Velvet Underground,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sister Nancy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Nick Fraelich,
Monolake,
Fat Boys,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Music Machine,
The Zeros,
Ornette Coleman,
Camouflage,
Johnny Clarke,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Motorama,
Nico,
The Moleskins,
Make Up,
New Order,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Quantec,
Brick,
The Grass Roots,
Ultra Naté,
China Crisis,
Slick Rick,
The New Christs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jawbox,
Niagra,
F. McDonald,
48th St. Collective,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Saccharine Trust,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Derrick May,
Pussy Galore,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rod Modell,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rekid,
Sam Rivers,
Nils Olav,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Nik Kershaw,
Yazoo,
The Shadows of Knight,
OOIOO,
Depeche Mode,
La Düsseldorf,
Barbara Tucker,
Maleditus Sound,
Ossler,
Porter Ricks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rites of Spring,
Scrapy,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.