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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Barry Ungar to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All AZ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Youth Brigade 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
U.S. Maple,
Iggy Pop,
Swans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lungfish,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kool Moe Dee,
June Days,
Soulsonic Force,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Warsaw,
Flipper,
The Techniques,
Throbbing Gristle,
Absolute Body Control,
The Alarm Clocks,
Simply Red,
Infiniti,
Guru Guru,
Soft Machine,
Reuben Wilson,
Yusef Lateef,
Japan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Loose Ends,
David Axelrod,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Vainqueur,
Brass Construction,
Mr. Review,
Soul II Soul,
Ice-T,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Avey Tare,
The Five Americans,
Matthew Halsall,
The Dirtbombs,
Gichy Dan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Roy Ayers,
Carl Craig,
Chrome,
Jandek,
Cymande,
Lyres,
Jimmy McGriff,
Charles Mingus,
China Crisis,
Cal Tjader,
Man Eating Sloth,
Janne Schatter,
Ornette Coleman,
Nik Kershaw,
Can,
Brick,
Andrew Hill,
Jawbox,
Sun City Girls,
Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence.
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.