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 Laos and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Niagra to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
The Young Rascals,
Wally Richardson,
Andrew Hill,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rapeman,
Magazine,
Sex Pistols,
L. Decosne,
Ponytail,
Eddi Front,
Mr. Review,
This Heat,
Tommy Roe,
Groovy Waters,
The Count Five,
Fluxion,
Con Funk Shun,
Reagan Youth,
Faust,
Camberwell Now,
Bronski Beat,
Byron Stingily,
Steve Hackett,
Juan Atkins,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rhythm & Sound,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Association,
Pagans,
Motorama,
Godley & Creme,
Funkadelic,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Music Machine,
Guru Guru,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Aloha Tigers,
The Doobie Brothers,
In Retrospect,
Pantaleimon,
Janne Schatter,
Bill Wells,
The Vogues,
Wolf Eyes,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Matthew Halsall,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Barracudas,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Busters,
Newcleus,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The American Breed,
The Slackers,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Monks,
FM Einheit,
Symarip,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Los Fastidios,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.