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 Iran and from Columbus.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Joe Finger to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Joey Negro,
Pharoah Sanders,
Au Pairs,
The Fortunes,
H. Thieme,
Neil Young,
T.S.O.L.,
The Young Rascals,
The Searchers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ronan,
Metal Thangz,
Spoonie Gee,
The United States of America,
The Dirtbombs,
The Real Kids,
The Toasters,
The Fall,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lee Hazlewood,
Youth Brigade,
Nils Olav,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Rapeman,
Sixth Finger,
Isaac Hayes,
Crime,
Circle Jerks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Litter,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Second Layer,
Eric B and Rakim,
Procol Harum,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Eden Ahbez,
Newcleus,
The Fuzztones,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Invisible,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Zeros,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Association,
Organ,
The Mojo Men,
The Knickerbockers,
Black Flag,
Bad Manners,
the Germs,
Cal Tjader,
Sällskapet,
The Detroit Cobras,
Model 500,
The Neon Judgement,
Loose Ends,
Jacques Brel,
The Selecter,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.