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 Luxembourg and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Ponytail 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 The Selecter. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Technova record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Model 500,
Procol Harum,
T. Rex,
Tomorrow,
Interpol,
Jacob Miller,
MC5,
Suburban Knight,
H. Thieme,
The Martian,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Girls At Our Best!,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lightning Bolt,
Symarip,
The Fire Engines,
Magma,
48th St. Collective,
Maurizio,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Soulsonic Force,
The Music Machine,
Curtis Mayfield,
Crooked Eye,
Eric Copeland,
Don Cherry,
Roxette,
La Düsseldorf,
Derrick May,
Audionom,
Silicon Teens,
Letta Mbulu,
Pere Ubu,
D'Angelo,
Masters at Work,
DNA,
The Saints,
The Toasters,
The Motions,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bootsy Collins,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rapeman,
Lower 48,
Drive Like Jehu,
CMW,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Young Rascals,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kas Product,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Motorama,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lou Reed,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Wake,
L. Decosne,
Gang Gang Dance,
Blancmange,
The Misunderstood,
Blake Baxter,
Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach.
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.