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 Benin and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 808 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 Man Eating Sloth to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Leonard Cohen. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Chris Corsano,
Bang On A Can,
The Evens,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pantytec,
Accadde A,
Sun Ra,
Oneida,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Sound,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Outsiders,
Frankie Knuckles,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tim Buckley,
The Doobie Brothers,
Slick Rick,
Absolute Body Control,
Black Bananas,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Blake Baxter,
JFA,
The Trojans,
Malaria!,
Ken Boothe,
Crash Course in Science,
Mary Jane Girls,
Skaos,
Y Pants,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bush Tetras,
Joensuu 1685,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tom Boy,
Harmonia,
The United States of America,
Rapeman,
Make Up,
Ronan,
The Raincoats,
Oblivians,
Average White Band,
June of 44,
Warsaw,
Eurythmics,
Magma,
Alton Ellis,
Vainqueur,
The Neon Judgement,
Hasil Adkins,
Radiohead,
Isaac Hayes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ultra Naté,
Dual Sessions,
Mad Mike,
48th St. Collective,
Drexciya,
Khruangbin,
The Smiths,
The Red Krayola,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.