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 Jordan and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Thee Headcoats 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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All Motorama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxy Music,
The Fugs,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Tremeloes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bobby Womack,
Rites of Spring,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The J.B.'s,
Todd Rundgren,
Black Moon,
Whodini,
Gang Green,
Siglo XX,
Lou Christie,
Swans,
Gang of Four,
Throbbing Gristle,
Warsaw,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Names,
Oneida,
Steve Hackett,
Man Parrish,
The Monochrome Set,
Minor Threat,
Minutemen,
The Leaves,
Soulsonic Force,
Urselle,
The Martian,
Basic Channel,
Inner City,
Pole,
Public Enemy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Tom Boy,
Franke,
The Motions,
The Smiths,
Hot Snakes,
Youth Brigade,
Tommy Roe,
U.S. Maple,
Warren Ellis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cluster,
Tubeway Army,
Public Image Ltd.,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Susan Cadogan,
Robert Wyatt,
The Mojo Men,
Terrestrial Tones,
Traffic Nightmare,
Index,
Peter and Kerry,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Niagra,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.