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 Uganda and from Calgary.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Columbus.
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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sparks to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Marmalade,
Arab on Radar,
The Remains,
Leonard Cohen,
The Moleskins,
Pole,
Dennis Brown,
Funkadelic,
Porter Ricks,
Electric Prunes,
U.S. Maple,
Soft Machine,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Black Dice,
Steve Hackett,
Groovy Waters,
Sexual Harrassment,
Danielle Patucci,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Stetsasonic,
Absolute Body Control,
Don Cherry,
Erykah Badu,
Simply Red,
David McCallum,
Peter and Kerry,
John Coltrane,
Soul Sonic Force,
Severed Heads,
Iggy Pop,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Heaven 17,
Marvin Gaye,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Fugs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Traffic Nightmare,
Parry Music,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Man Parrish,
The Toasters,
Sight & Sound,
The Mojo Men,
Johnny Osbourne,
Neil Young,
Derrick Morgan,
Sun Ra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lightning Bolt,
Blancmange,
The Dirtbombs,
Agent Orange,
Pussy Galore,
A Certain Ratio,
Matthew Bourne,
Sällskapet,
The Vogues,
Clear Light,
Barry Ungar,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mad Mike,
Freddie Wadling,
Gang Green,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.