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 Ethiopia and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Eric Dolphy to the grime 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All The Gap Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
the Association,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sun Ra,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Motorama,
Ken Boothe,
The Monochrome Set,
Eric Dolphy,
Nik Kershaw,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Make Up,
John Coltrane,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Birthday Party,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kool Moe Dee,
Wolf Eyes,
DNA,
Bauhaus,
the Normal,
Todd Rundgren,
Max Romeo,
Alton Ellis,
The Young Rascals,
The Electric Prunes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Freddie Wadling,
Sällskapet,
Radiohead,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Glenn Branca,
Pussy Galore,
Deadbeat,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Fela Kuti,
The Smiths,
Mars,
MC5,
Magazine,
Henry Cow,
ABC,
Albert Ayler,
Ossler,
Unwound,
the Germs,
Sex Pistols,
Audionom,
kango's stein massive,
New York Dolls,
Johnny Clarke,
The Misunderstood,
Bang On A Can,
The Associates,
Agent Orange,
Aaron Thompson,
The Trojans,
Arcadia,
The Buckinghams,
Sam Rivers,
Tim Buckley,
Pierre Henry,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.