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 Swaziland and from Copenhagen.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Kool Moe Dee to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
MDC,
MC5,
Jacob Miller,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Maleditus Sound,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gladiators,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Royal Trux,
Traffic Nightmare,
Tomorrow,
the Fania All-Stars,
kango's stein massive,
The Beau Brummels,
The Gun Club,
48th St. Collective,
Nico,
Tubeway Army,
Agitation Free,
Mission of Burma,
Alice Coltrane,
Harry Pussy,
Kurtis Blow,
The Tremeloes,
Chris & Cosey,
Sight & Sound,
The Cowsills,
Susan Cadogan,
June of 44,
Johnny Clarke,
Barry Ungar,
Blancmange,
the Bar-Kays,
Make Up,
Kool Moe Dee,
Roger Hodgson,
Khruangbin,
The Last Poets,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tom Boy,
Joy Division,
Crash Course in Science,
Donald Byrd,
Half Japanese,
Rhythm & Sound,
Black Bananas,
Joyce Sims,
Colin Newman,
The Invisible,
Fugazi,
Crime,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Moody Blues,
Mad Mike,
Outsiders,
KRS-One,
Barclay James Harvest,
ABBA,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Hot Snakes,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.