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 New Zealand and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse to the grunge 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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delon & Dalcan,
The Searchers,
Nick Fraelich,
Rapeman,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mark Hollis,
Buzzcocks,
Make Up,
Fear,
Ituana,
Nik Kershaw,
Scientists,
Urselle,
Dawn Penn,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Moody Blues,
Lebanon Hanover,
Radio Birdman,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Freddie Wadling,
48th St. Collective,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kool Moe Dee,
Cluster,
The Pretty Things,
Y Pants,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Cramps,
The Blues Magoos,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eric Copeland,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jandek,
The Fall,
Banda Bassotti,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Vogues,
Brand Nubian,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Ronnie Foster,
Swell Maps,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Wasted Youth,
The Beau Brummels,
The Litter,
David Axelrod,
Neu!,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Gladiators,
Connie Case,
The Associates,
Amazonics,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Faust,
Roy Ayers,
The Index,
Talk Talk,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.