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 Sierra Leone and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Eddi Front to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
Barrington Levy,
Roger Hodgson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Black Sheep,
Nils Olav,
Flamin' Groovies,
World's Most,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
A Certain Ratio,
Duran Duran,
John Coltrane,
These Immortal Souls,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Black Pus,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Desert Stars,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Little Man,
The Music Machine,
Josef K,
Warsaw,
Joe Smooth,
June Days,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Con Funk Shun,
Gerry Rafferty,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
a-ha,
June of 44,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tres Demented,
Angry Samoans,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Harmonia,
Tears for Fears,
Jerry's Kids,
Moss Icon,
Cluster,
Lou Reed,
Magma,
James White and The Blacks,
Don Cherry,
The Alarm Clocks,
DJ Sneak,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
John Lydon,
Robert Görl,
the Germs,
Wasted Youth,
the Normal,
The Birthday Party,
Malaria!,
L. Decosne,
H. Thieme,
Freddie Wadling,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Fluxion,
The Raincoats,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.