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 Qatar and from Paris.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Seoul.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Pharoah Sanders to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ohio Players. All the underground hits.
All Oneida tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kaleidoscope record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Glambeats Corp.,
Groovy Waters,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lou Christie,
The Mojo Men,
The Searchers,
Barry Ungar,
Country Teasers,
Saccharine Trust,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Wire,
U.S. Maple,
Kevin Saunderson,
John Cale,
Brick,
Rekid,
Dave Gahan,
the Human League,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Robert Görl,
Fatback Band,
a-ha,
Zapp,
The Fuzztones,
The Wake,
Nation of Ulysses,
Faraquet,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Khruangbin,
The Knickerbockers,
Q and Not U,
The Neon Judgement,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lindisfarne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Byron Stingily,
The Music Machine,
Roxette,
Lower 48,
Bobby Byrd,
The Last Poets,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jacques Brel,
Liliput,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lucky Dragons,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Gap Band,
Sarah Menescal,
Heaven 17,
Radiopuhelimet,
Can,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kenny Larkin,
Little Man,
The Offenders,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Victims,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.