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 Madagascar and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 808 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
The Smiths,
Crispian St. Peters,
T. Rex,
Cal Tjader,
Scratch Acid,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Godley & Creme,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Reuben Wilson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Harmonia,
Silicon Teens,
Duran Duran,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Henry Cow,
Skriet,
The Divine Comedy,
Colin Newman,
The Cowsills,
The Invisible,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Bar-Kays,
Guru Guru,
Bob Dylan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mad Mike,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rufus Thomas,
Circle Jerks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Newcleus,
The Buckinghams,
Adolescents,
The Raincoats,
Deadbeat,
Absolute Body Control,
Hot Snakes,
Pylon,
Donny Hathaway,
JFA,
Erykah Badu,
Warren Ellis,
Blake Baxter,
Y Pants,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ultra Naté,
FM Einheit,
Inner City,
Tim Buckley,
The Human League,
Drexciya,
Supertramp,
The Real Kids,
Outsiders,
Sister Nancy,
Shoche,
Yellowson,
Isaac Hayes,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.