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 Mali and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Holger Czukay 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 Radiohead to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Steve Hackett,
The New Christs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mad Mike,
Smog,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Saints,
EPMD,
Reuben Wilson,
The Gladiators,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Juan Atkins,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sex Pistols,
Darondo,
Marshall Jefferson,
F. McDonald,
Davy DMX,
Fear,
The Index,
Fatback Band,
Make Up,
Sun Ra,
Barbara Tucker,
Minutemen,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Raincoats,
Nils Olav,
Thee Headcoats,
Joe Finger,
Eve St. Jones,
Minor Threat,
Soft Cell,
Deakin,
Eric Dolphy,
Johnny Clarke,
Nation of Ulysses,
Derrick Morgan,
The Sonics,
The Birthday Party,
Young Marble Giants,
Brand Nubian,
Grauzone,
E-Dancer,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Joy Division,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Kinks,
Angry Samoans,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Womack,
Terry Callier,
The Neon Judgement,
Liliput,
Joey Negro,
Funkadelic,
The Flesh Eaters,
Piero Umiliani,
Wasted Youth,
Don Cherry,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.