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 Vanuatu and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Eddi Front to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Model 500 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
The Misunderstood,
Patti Smith,
Byron Stingily,
Man Parrish,
Popol Vuh,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
DNA,
Kurtis Blow,
cv313,
Faraquet,
Gichy Dan,
Jawbox,
The Cure,
Black Pus,
T. Rex,
Wasted Youth,
Eden Ahbez,
Mary Jane Girls,
Black Bananas,
Oblivians,
Royal Trux,
Dead Boys,
Gil Scott Heron,
8 Eyed Spy,
Susan Cadogan,
Matthew Halsall,
The Sound,
Rakim,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jacques Brel,
Eli Mardock,
La Düsseldorf,
Subhumans,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tomorrow,
Gabor Szabo,
Skaos,
Bush Tetras,
Lalann,
H. Thieme,
Kerri Chandler,
Tim Buckley,
The Fugs,
James White and The Blacks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Heaven 17,
Skarface,
the Bar-Kays,
The Walker Brothers,
Boz Scaggs,
Anakelly,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Siglo XX,
Neu!,
Roxy Music,
Goldenarms,
Cluster,
Boredoms,
Oneida,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.