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 France and from Hong Kong.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Electric Prunes to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The New Christs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Roxette,
UT,
Thee Headcoats,
Colin Newman,
Nation of Ulysses,
Stereo Dub,
Crooked Eye,
Radiohead,
Country Teasers,
Roger Hodgson,
Sam Rivers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sällskapet,
Bobby Byrd,
Gerry Rafferty,
Skaos,
Outsiders,
Alice Coltrane,
Quantec,
Siglo XX,
X-Ray Spex,
Stiv Bators,
Moebius,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Adolescents,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Dirtbombs,
Erasure,
Can,
Lungfish,
Porter Ricks,
Connie Case,
Robert Hood,
Bush Tetras,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kurtis Blow,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Andrew Hill,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Marc Almond,
Kool Moe Dee,
CMW,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Flamin' Groovies,
Big Daddy Kane,
OOIOO,
Banda Bassotti,
Byron Stingily,
Lakeside,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dead Boys,
Marvin Gaye,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nick Fraelich,
Angry Samoans,
Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken.
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.