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 Ivory Coast and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Mary Jane Girls to the grunge 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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis 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 grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Newcleus,
Symarip,
Johnny Clarke,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Crooked Eye,
Grauzone,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Names,
Radio Birdman,
The J.B.'s,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Terrestrial Tones,
Yaz,
Flipper,
Jawbox,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dave Gahan,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Wings,
Babytalk,
The Residents,
Theoretical Girls,
Moby Grape,
Mantronix,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gong,
Porter Ricks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Deakin,
Popol Vuh,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Judy Mowatt,
Loose Ends,
Frankie Knuckles,
K-Klass,
DJ Style,
The Star Department,
Crime,
Kaleidoscope,
Wasted Youth,
The Dead C,
Whodini,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Roger Hodgson,
The Young Rascals,
Guru Guru,
Supertramp,
Hashim,
Janne Schatter,
Ituana,
Traffic Nightmare,
Scan 7,
Dead Boys,
E-Dancer,
Accadde A,
Eric Copeland,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mars,
Jacques Brel,
Peter & Gordon,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.