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 Ivory Coast and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Seeds to the rock 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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Laurel Aitken,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Maleditus Sound,
The Offenders,
The American Breed,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Second Layer,
T. Rex,
DNA,
Janne Schatter,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Dirtbombs,
Sound Behaviour,
Masters at Work,
Morten Harket,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rosa Yemen,
ABBA,
Sällskapet,
Duran Duran,
Tears for Fears,
U.S. Maple,
Pere Ubu,
Lalo Schifrin,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bob Dylan,
The Blues Magoos,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Harmonia,
K-Klass,
OOIOO,
Echospace,
Rekid,
Freddie Wadling,
Hasil Adkins,
The Index,
Monks,
Underground Resistance,
Grauzone,
John Holt,
Monolake,
Tropical Tobacco,
Y Pants,
Mission of Burma,
La Düsseldorf,
Warren Ellis,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Man Eating Sloth,
Robert Hood,
The Vogues,
Basic Channel,
Pierre Henry,
Babytalk,
Public Enemy,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lindisfarne,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Swans,
Con Funk Shun,
Mark Hollis,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.