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 Peru and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Can to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobbi Humphrey,
John Cale,
Fatback Band,
Make Up,
Marine Girls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Technova,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Arthur Verocai,
MDC,
DJ Sneak,
Todd Rundgren,
The Smiths,
Letta Mbulu,
Chrome,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Slits,
Kenny Larkin,
Hardrive,
Masters at Work,
The Black Dice,
Unrelated Segments,
Joy Division,
Alice Coltrane,
Circle Jerks,
China Crisis,
Nik Kershaw,
Crooked Eye,
The Buckinghams,
Radio Birdman,
The Saints,
Magazine,
Dennis Brown,
Sällskapet,
Harry Pussy,
Ohio Players,
Loose Ends,
The Trojans,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kurtis Blow,
Barrington Levy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Franke,
Camouflage,
The Neon Judgement,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mad Mike,
The Vogues,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Amon Düül,
Average White Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ossler,
Gang of Four,
Joensuu 1685,
E-Dancer,
The Cure,
The Divine Comedy,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.