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 Afghanistan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Albert Ayler to the funk 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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aloha Tigers,
Bad Manners,
Bootsy Collins,
OOIOO,
Swell Maps,
Jeru the Damaja,
Whodini,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Susan Cadogan,
Dual Sessions,
Jerry Gold Smith,
F. McDonald,
Alton Ellis,
Eve St. Jones,
Todd Terry,
Junior Murvin,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
the Bar-Kays,
the Human League,
Spoonie Gee,
Hashim,
Charles Mingus,
Robert Görl,
The Fuzztones,
Eric Copeland,
The Martian,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Techniques,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Cymande,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Cheater Slicks,
Public Enemy,
Icehouse,
The Smoke,
The Index,
Scratch Acid,
Pierre Henry,
The Pop Group,
Mad Mike,
Erasure,
Tubeway Army,
New Age Steppers,
Dark Day,
Crooked Eye,
Althea and Donna,
Shuggie Otis,
The Sound,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
U.S. Maple,
Scientists,
Lou Reed,
Brothers Johnson,
Panda Bear,
Minnie Riperton,
John Foxx,
Barbara Tucker,
Faust,
Matthew Bourne,
Gichy Dan,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.