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 Argentina and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Winnipeg.
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 marimba 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 Sixth Finger to the electroclash 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 The Victims. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
H. Thieme,
Con Funk Shun,
Toni Rubio,
Brick,
New Age Steppers,
The Mummies,
The Victims,
Deepchord,
Joey Negro,
Vainqueur,
Man Eating Sloth,
R.M.O.,
The Sonics,
Amazonics,
Joyce Sims,
Terrestrial Tones,
Hot Snakes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Scientists,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Colin Newman,
Susan Cadogan,
D'Angelo,
The Velvet Underground,
Davy DMX,
The Offenders,
The Count Five,
Stereo Dub,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Fire Engines,
Lalann,
Cybotron,
the Association,
The Gladiators,
The Happenings,
Darondo,
Scan 7,
Harpers Bizarre,
Boredoms,
Urselle,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Lydon,
Fela Kuti,
Hardrive,
Lou Christie,
Yazoo,
DNA,
Visage,
Porter Ricks,
Los Fastidios,
Cameo,
Grey Daturas,
The Residents,
Judy Mowatt,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fear,
Man Parrish,
Television Personalities,
Steve Hackett,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.