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 Bahrain and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 B.T. Express to the crunk 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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
The Toasters,
The Seeds,
Easy Going,
Pharoah Sanders,
Grey Daturas,
Scratch Acid,
Wasted Youth,
Bob Dylan,
Nirvana,
Tropical Tobacco,
Television,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Blake Baxter,
Dave Gahan,
Judy Mowatt,
Amazonics,
Little Man,
Laurel Aitken,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bootsy Collins,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Colin Newman,
Eurythmics,
Al Stewart,
The Dave Clark Five,
Brass Construction,
Ituana,
Todd Terry,
Q and Not U,
Sarah Menescal,
Q65,
LL Cool J,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Arcadia,
Roxy Music,
Boz Scaggs,
Franke,
Matthew Bourne,
Adolescents,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lungfish,
Whodini,
Pylon,
Lucky Dragons,
Soft Cell,
Das Ding,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sugar Minott,
Quantec,
John Lydon,
Symarip,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ludus,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The New Christs,
Can,
Jerry's Kids,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.