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 Croatia and from Glasgow.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator 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 Idris Muhammad to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks 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 guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Boogie Down Productions,
Hashim,
Groovy Waters,
Symarip,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mad Mike,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Buckinghams,
Harry Pussy,
Jesper Dahlback,
AZ,
Don Cherry,
Monks,
a-ha,
Cluster,
Moss Icon,
Animal Collective,
Faraquet,
Albert Ayler,
The Five Americans,
The Fall,
John Lydon,
Gang of Four,
B.T. Express,
Banda Bassotti,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Barclay James Harvest,
Aswad,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mandrill,
Basic Channel,
Babytalk,
Altered Images,
The Durutti Column,
Brothers Johnson,
The Kinks,
Lalann,
Rosa Yemen,
Sällskapet,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Vogues,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Gun Club,
Television,
Soft Cell,
The Pretty Things,
Chris & Cosey,
The Motions,
Gastr Del Sol,
Amon Düül,
The Black Dice,
Gerry Rafferty,
Isaac Hayes,
Alison Limerick,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Delta 5,
Bobby Sherman,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
KRS-One,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.