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 Turkmenistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 48th St. Collective to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sun Ra. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a KRS-One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Sister Nancy,
The Happenings,
Don Cherry,
Cybotron,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Unwound,
Warren Ellis,
Stetsasonic,
Adolescents,
Procol Harum,
Liliput,
Neu!,
Thompson Twins,
Amazonics,
Nation of Ulysses,
Donald Byrd,
Marvin Gaye,
La Düsseldorf,
Sight & Sound,
Minnie Riperton,
Ponytail,
The Leaves,
Tears for Fears,
Frankie Knuckles,
Reuben Wilson,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Jawbox,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Slits,
F. McDonald,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Blancmange,
Letta Mbulu,
The Gun Club,
PIL,
James White and The Blacks,
The Neon Judgement,
Erasure,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Buzzcocks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Blake Baxter,
Grandmaster Flash,
John Coltrane,
Bill Near,
Fad Gadget,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Walker Brothers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sixth Finger,
Ultravox,
Robert Hood,
The Litter,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.