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 East Timor and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Oneida to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Easy Going,
The Detroit Cobras,
Derrick Morgan,
Brass Construction,
Slick Rick,
Glambeats Corp.,
Second Layer,
John Lydon,
Sight & Sound,
Harry Pussy,
Eve St. Jones,
Gregory Isaacs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Masters at Work,
Warren Ellis,
The Mojo Men,
Rapeman,
Cameo,
Marc Almond,
The Busters,
The Litter,
Fluxion,
Massinfluence,
Shuggie Otis,
Wire,
Deadbeat,
a-ha,
Jawbox,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
OOIOO,
Cecil Taylor,
The Sound,
Talk Talk,
Robert Hood,
Crispian St. Peters,
John Coltrane,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
David McCallum,
Boredoms,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lou Reed,
Johnny Osbourne,
Wolf Eyes,
Lindisfarne,
T.S.O.L.,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Offenders,
the Swans,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bauhaus,
B.T. Express,
Monolake,
The Last Poets,
Wally Richardson,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Unwound,
Mad Mike,
Pet Shop Boys,
Isaac Hayes,
The Smoke,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.