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 Eritrea and from London.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Quando Quango to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Jawbox. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Hardrive,
Erykah Badu,
Wally Richardson,
The Offenders,
Robert Hood,
Nick Fraelich,
Carl Craig,
Andrew Hill,
Ultimate Spinach,
Laurel Aitken,
Ornette Coleman,
Fela Kuti,
the Sonics,
Spoonie Gee,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marc Almond,
Delta 5,
Q65,
Amon Düül,
Ice-T,
Ponytail,
Jerry's Kids,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
a-ha,
Neu!,
Jeff Lynne,
Swell Maps,
Au Pairs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dead Boys,
Derrick May,
Nils Olav,
Glambeats Corp.,
Junior Murvin,
Harmonia,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Darondo,
Shuggie Otis,
Deepchord,
John Cale,
Gil Scott Heron,
Joensuu 1685,
Bobby Womack,
Metal Thangz,
The Names,
48th St. Collective,
Dawn Penn,
The Searchers,
Lindisfarne,
Drive Like Jehu,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Stereo Dub,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Scott Walker,
The Slits,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.