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 Peru and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Donald Fagen 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 Accadde A to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Motions,
The Cramps,
Rod Modell,
Joy Division,
Pantytec,
Hashim,
Gastr Del Sol,
Howard Jones,
the Normal,
Blancmange,
John Holt,
Symarip,
Nik Kershaw,
The Pretty Things,
Ituana,
Fad Gadget,
Gabor Szabo,
Traffic Nightmare,
DNA,
Hoover,
James White and The Blacks,
Fear,
Black Moon,
Kaleidoscope,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nirvana,
Sex Pistols,
Bobby Sherman,
Neil Young,
Stetsasonic,
Boz Scaggs,
Lindisfarne,
Slave,
Skarface,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Throbbing Gristle,
Al Stewart,
Crime,
Electric Prunes,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Altered Images,
Das Ding,
Big Daddy Kane,
Excepter,
Quantec,
This Heat,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bill Wells,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
In Retrospect,
The Buckinghams,
Peter and Kerry,
Negative Approach,
Kas Product,
The Tremeloes,
Boredoms,
David McCallum,
Q65, Q65, Q65, Q65.
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.