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 Canada and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Woodstock and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 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 Mr. Review 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 Gastr Del Sol. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
The American Breed,
Slave,
Bob Dylan,
Royal Trux,
Qualms,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Banda Bassotti,
Echospace,
Newcleus,
Joyce Sims,
Marine Girls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dead Boys,
Soulsonic Force,
These Immortal Souls,
Black Bananas,
Susan Cadogan,
Guru Guru,
Bronski Beat,
Electric Prunes,
In Retrospect,
Sun City Girls,
Bang On A Can,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Fugs,
Gregory Isaacs,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Star Department,
Chris & Cosey,
Babytalk,
Faraquet,
One Last Wish,
Silicon Teens,
Fad Gadget,
Altered Images,
PIL,
Depeche Mode,
Pere Ubu,
Lucky Dragons,
Arab on Radar,
Mandrill,
Buzzcocks,
Boogie Down Productions,
Clear Light,
The Slackers,
Hot Snakes,
Pagans,
The New Christs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Section 25,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Warren Ellis,
Grandmaster Flash,
Barclay James Harvest,
Reuben Wilson,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Donny Hathaway,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.