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 Zambia and from Spokane.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 spring reverb 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 Procol Harum to the electroclash 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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronan 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Patti Smith,
The Knickerbockers,
John Foxx,
Joey Negro,
Aural Exciters,
The Fugs,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Bar-Kays,
Theoretical Girls,
Pantytec,
Grauzone,
Tommy Roe,
Lindisfarne,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Wire,
Das Ding,
The Fire Engines,
F. McDonald,
PIL,
Judy Mowatt,
The Smiths,
Hot Snakes,
Chris Corsano,
Camouflage,
Fela Kuti,
Sam Rivers,
Metal Thangz,
Scion,
Trumans Water,
Sällskapet,
Prince Buster,
The Barracudas,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Angry Samoans,
Wally Richardson,
The Red Krayola,
Nas,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pere Ubu,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gregory Isaacs,
Liliput,
John Coltrane,
Intrusion,
Can,
Mission of Burma,
X-102,
48th St. Collective,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Aswad,
Blossom Toes,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Technova,
Marcia Griffiths,
June of 44,
Main Source,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sex Pistols,
Stetsasonic,
Joe Smooth,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.