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 Swaziland and from Taipei.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 The Angels of Light to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
John Lydon,
Eddi Front,
Popol Vuh,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ten City,
The Blues Magoos,
Cameo,
The Angels of Light,
Bootsy Collins,
The Kinks,
Massinfluence,
Brick,
Jawbox,
Zero Boys,
Skriet,
Index,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
ABC,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Judy Mowatt,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Mummies,
Cecil Taylor,
Masters at Work,
Altered Images,
Wasted Youth,
Agent Orange,
Ice-T,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Birthday Party,
June Days,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Raincoats,
The Moleskins,
June of 44,
Bill Wells,
Lalo Schifrin,
Unwound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pole,
the Association,
Oblivians,
Johnny Clarke,
Fela Kuti,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
D'Angelo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Robert Hood,
Oneida,
Thompson Twins,
Skarface,
Be Bop Deluxe,
48th St. Collective,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Associates,
Severed Heads,
Lower 48,
Average White Band,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lungfish,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.