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 Ireland and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 U.S. Maple to the crunk 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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cosmic Jokers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maleditus Sound,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Skatalites,
David McCallum,
Boogie Down Productions,
Quando Quango,
Angry Samoans,
OOIOO,
Marine Girls,
Gang of Four,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Alice Coltrane,
Harry Pussy,
The Star Department,
MDC,
The Music Machine,
Japan,
The Smiths,
Dawn Penn,
Pagans,
48th St. Collective,
Saccharine Trust,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Skarface,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Fugazi,
ABC,
Sällskapet,
Ornette Coleman,
La Düsseldorf,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Minutemen,
Theoretical Girls,
The Fall,
Camouflage,
Terry Callier,
Tears for Fears,
Crash Course in Science,
Slave,
Supertramp,
Newcleus,
The Techniques,
Livin' Joy,
Kurtis Blow,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Adolescents,
Jerry Gold Smith,
LL Cool J,
The Blues Magoos,
Vladislav Delay,
The Sonics,
Index,
Nirvana,
The Shadows of Knight,
Harmonia,
Desert Stars,
Chrome,
Amon Düül,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Oneida,
Deepchord,
Glenn Branca,
Agent Orange,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.