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 Kazakhstan and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 linndrum 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 Kaleidoscope to the crunk 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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Half Japanese record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
T. Rex,
Eve St. Jones,
Black Moon,
Minny Pops,
Lou Christie,
Bauhaus,
10cc,
Radiohead,
Jacob Miller,
Charles Mingus,
Siglo XX,
Easy Going,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Connie Case,
The Cure,
Steve Hackett,
Barbara Tucker,
Tropical Tobacco,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kaleidoscope,
Yazoo,
The Doors,
Mo-Dettes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Inner City,
D'Angelo,
Y Pants,
The Techniques,
Anthony Braxton,
Country Teasers,
Infiniti,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Fluxion,
Fear,
Fela Kuti,
Freddie Wadling,
Lou Reed,
Boz Scaggs,
David McCallum,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Duran Duran,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marcia Griffiths,
H. Thieme,
Scientists,
Rosa Yemen,
Dead Boys,
Joey Negro,
Banda Bassotti,
Wasted Youth,
Sight & Sound,
Swell Maps,
Skaos,
Camouflage,
Youth Brigade,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wings,
Animal Collective,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.