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 Suriname and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the oboe 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 Skarface to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Rod Modell,
Eli Mardock,
Sam Rivers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Angels of Light,
Anakelly,
Oblivians,
The Last Poets,
Intrusion,
the Swans,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Qualms,
Rakim,
Unwound,
Young Marble Giants,
a-ha,
The Shadows of Knight,
Brothers Johnson,
Sun City Girls,
Index,
Thee Headcoats,
Mars,
Ken Boothe,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Terry Callier,
Eve St. Jones,
Scott Walker,
Alton Ellis,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sarah Menescal,
Toni Rubio,
Surgeon,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hot Snakes,
Funkadelic,
Connie Case,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rekid,
Charles Mingus,
Cecil Taylor,
Skaos,
The Names,
Letta Mbulu,
The Remains,
The Offenders,
Minor Threat,
Quantec,
Marshall Jefferson,
Flipper,
The Zeros,
Howard Jones,
Man Eating Sloth,
Danielle Patucci,
Black Sheep,
Scion,
Mad Mike,
Spandau Ballet,
Television,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kayak,
JFA,
Arab on Radar,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.