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 Gambia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Bologna.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Alton Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
JFA,
Girls At Our Best!,
Man Parrish,
The Barracudas,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Graham Central Station,
Soft Machine,
Sällskapet,
Jeff Lynne,
Hoover,
Pantaleimon,
Vladislav Delay,
June Days,
Black Moon,
a-ha,
New Age Steppers,
The Smoke,
H. Thieme,
the Germs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Oblivians,
Matthew Bourne,
The Music Machine,
The Cowsills,
Arthur Verocai,
Susan Cadogan,
Gastr Del Sol,
Dorothy Ashby,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Man Eating Sloth,
Can,
Inner City,
The Fugs,
Shoche,
Urselle,
The Saints,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Roy Ayers,
Suicide,
Sun Ra,
Yazoo,
The Gap Band,
Pierre Henry,
Dead Boys,
The Golliwogs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eric Copeland,
Bluetip,
The Tremeloes,
Robert Wyatt,
Pole,
La Düsseldorf,
Prince Buster,
Radiohead,
Electric Prunes,
48th St. Collective,
Icehouse,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.