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 Jordan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ 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 The Pretty Things to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Axelrod record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nils Olav,
The Pretty Things,
Barrington Levy,
Interpol,
Moebius,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Grass Roots,
Radio Birdman,
Model 500,
Organ,
The Red Krayola,
CMW,
Peter & Gordon,
The Remains,
Shuggie Otis,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
X-Ray Spex,
The Saints,
Zapp,
The Selecter,
Jerry's Kids,
Sex Pistols,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rod Modell,
Fluxion,
Reagan Youth,
Cybotron,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Pus,
Joe Finger,
The Index,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gabor Szabo,
Albert Ayler,
Black Moon,
The Fugs,
John Cale,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Mr. Review,
cv313,
Schoolly D,
Ken Boothe,
Derrick Morgan,
John Lydon,
DJ Sneak,
Bush Tetras,
The Barracudas,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dark Day,
Audionom,
Television Personalities,
Donny Hathaway,
Crime,
Cal Tjader,
Brand Nubian,
T. Rex,
Gang Gang Dance,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Carl Craig,
Byron Stingily,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.