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 San Marino and from Tehran.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Cairo.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Black Dice to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Lalo Schifrin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Litter,
Archie Shepp,
Fear,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lyres,
Charles Mingus,
Nico,
The Fall,
Eric Copeland,
Ronan,
Interpol,
The Toasters,
Quantec,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Q65,
The Names,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lalann,
Popol Vuh,
Livin' Joy,
D'Angelo,
Alice Coltrane,
Slick Rick,
Skaos,
The Dead C,
Panda Bear,
The Kinks,
Sandy B,
Ludus,
Monks,
Accadde A,
Scrapy,
Tomorrow,
the Sonics,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eve St. Jones,
The Music Machine,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mr. Review,
Jacques Brel,
Model 500,
Tears for Fears,
Bill Wells,
Bush Tetras,
The New Christs,
Pole,
Khruangbin,
Arab on Radar,
Hashim,
Derrick Morgan,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sister Nancy,
The Gories,
The Blackbyrds,
Rapeman,
Gabor Szabo,
The Skatalites,
John Coltrane,
Pharoah Sanders,
The American Breed,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.