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 United States and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Cairo.
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 theremin 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Pagans,
Freddie Wadling,
The United States of America,
Clear Light,
Pylon,
Letta Mbulu,
Niagra,
Babytalk,
Q65,
Black Pus,
The Slits,
Throbbing Gristle,
Reuben Wilson,
The Grass Roots,
Mo-Dettes,
Interpol,
Slave,
The Black Dice,
Moss Icon,
Nirvana,
Pussy Galore,
Wings,
The Leaves,
Make Up,
B.T. Express,
Intrusion,
Pole,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Move,
Lower 48,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ohio Players,
Youth Brigade,
David Bowie,
Sparks,
Model 500,
Radiohead,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Boredoms,
Panda Bear,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bobby Sherman,
Bob Dylan,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pierre Henry,
Ludus,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
the Human League,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Howard Jones,
D'Angelo,
These Immortal Souls,
Vainqueur,
Unwound,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nils Olav,
The Beau Brummels,
New Age Steppers,
The Durutti Column,
Dead Boys,
Flipper,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.