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 Uruguay and from Stockholm.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 güiro 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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel to the electroclash 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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Albert Ayler,
Adolescents,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rapeman,
the Human League,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Germs,
Icehouse,
Erykah Badu,
The Move,
The Mummies,
Dorothy Ashby,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
John Holt,
Rekid,
The Smoke,
U.S. Maple,
Terry Callier,
Moss Icon,
The Happenings,
Quantec,
Dennis Brown,
Ponytail,
E-Dancer,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Jacques Brel,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Tremeloes,
B.T. Express,
Masters at Work,
Bauhaus,
Model 500,
Suicide,
Au Pairs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jeru the Damaja,
ABC,
The Residents,
Lalann,
Bobby Womack,
Ice-T,
Black Bananas,
X-101,
Mars,
Nas,
Harpers Bizarre,
Reagan Youth,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Young Rascals,
Lungfish,
Von Mondo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
A Certain Ratio,
Pulsallama,
The Star Department,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Last Poets,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.