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 Guinea-Bissau and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Sao Paulo.
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 synthesizer 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 Bizarre Inc. to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every cv313 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
Erasure,
The Knickerbockers,
Bush Tetras,
Danielle Patucci,
Public Enemy,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Dark Day,
The Victims,
Gabor Szabo,
These Immortal Souls,
Au Pairs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marmalade,
Ten City,
Jawbox,
Depeche Mode,
David Bowie,
Lightning Bolt,
the Association,
The Monks,
Henry Cow,
Barry Ungar,
Joe Smooth,
Blake Baxter,
Brothers Johnson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Letta Mbulu,
The Doors,
Lucky Dragons,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Con Funk Shun,
Hot Snakes,
Kas Product,
The Selecter,
John Coltrane,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Fortunes,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Five Americans,
Tubeway Army,
Steve Hackett,
Skriet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Unrelated Segments,
Suicide,
Mark Hollis,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Matthew Bourne,
F. McDonald,
The Martian,
Echospace,
Heaven 17,
Cal Tjader,
Anthony Braxton,
ABBA,
Rapeman,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Junior Murvin,
The Cowsills,
Oneida,
Juan Atkins,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.