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 Slovenia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moss Icon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ohio Players,
Clear Light,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Saccharine Trust,
Letta Mbulu,
Von Mondo,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gang Green,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pierre Henry,
The Pretty Things,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tommy Roe,
Ultimate Spinach,
Barclay James Harvest,
The American Breed,
Boredoms,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sugar Minott,
Monks,
Fluxion,
The Last Poets,
the Swans,
ABBA,
Vainqueur,
Circle Jerks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Althea and Donna,
Flipper,
Albert Ayler,
Black Bananas,
Nation of Ulysses,
Das Ding,
Barbara Tucker,
the Germs,
June of 44,
Joe Finger,
Section 25,
Bobby Byrd,
Brass Construction,
Wolf Eyes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
World's Most,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kurtis Blow,
The Associates,
Interpol,
UT,
H. Thieme,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sonny Sharrock,
Skaos,
Lindisfarne,
X-102,
The Residents,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Neon Judgement,
Joy Division,
Country Teasers,
Banda Bassotti,
The Buckinghams,
The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground.
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.