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 Yemen and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heavy D & The Boyz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
James White and The Blacks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Oneida,
Isaac Hayes,
Wings,
Steve Hackett,
Panda Bear,
Albert Ayler,
Outsiders,
Stiv Bators,
Basic Channel,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nirvana,
The Star Department,
Mad Mike,
the Sonics,
Gang Green,
E-Dancer,
JFA,
Jerry's Kids,
the Slits,
Big Daddy Kane,
Archie Shepp,
New Order,
Rapeman,
Bill Near,
Quantec,
Glenn Branca,
Depeche Mode,
The Golliwogs,
The Grass Roots,
The Detroit Cobras,
Dawn Penn,
Soul Sonic Force,
Tom Boy,
Bush Tetras,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Five Americans,
Quadrant,
Sarah Menescal,
Lucky Dragons,
the Normal,
Sandy B,
Amon Düül II,
The Cowsills,
Todd Rundgren,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Grey Daturas,
New York Dolls,
Eric B and Rakim,
Popol Vuh,
DJ Sneak,
The Fugs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Amon Düül,
Rosa Yemen,
Whodini,
Robert Hood,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.