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 Saudi Arabia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 organ 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 The Moleskins to the rap 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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All Lalo Schifrin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Index,
Ludus,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Dead C,
Negative Approach,
Stiv Bators,
Robert Hood,
Derrick May,
Scan 7,
Joe Finger,
The Pretty Things,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Tropical Tobacco,
X-101,
Agitation Free,
Minutemen,
Moby Grape,
Pulsallama,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pharoah Sanders,
Brick,
The Smoke,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Fuzztones,
New York Dolls,
Dennis Brown,
Roger Hodgson,
Max Romeo,
The New Christs,
The Gap Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tears for Fears,
The Toasters,
Bobby Sherman,
Hot Snakes,
Black Sheep,
Spandau Ballet,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Vladislav Delay,
Fela Kuti,
Moebius,
Ice-T,
Rod Modell,
Sixth Finger,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Porter Ricks,
L. Decosne,
K-Klass,
the Soft Cell,
PIL,
Sight & Sound,
Siglo XX,
Rosa Yemen,
Derrick Morgan,
Icehouse,
Procol Harum,
Harry Pussy,
Excepter,
Trumans Water,
Cecil Taylor,
Radiohead,
Swans,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.