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 Solomon Islands and from Milan.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bang On A Can to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wally Richardson,
Little Man,
Quando Quango,
Camouflage,
Intrusion,
Vainqueur,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Chris & Cosey,
Main Source,
The Moody Blues,
Slave,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pussy Galore,
Surgeon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Blake Baxter,
Sonny Sharrock,
Iggy Pop,
The Walker Brothers,
Joe Finger,
The Fire Engines,
Todd Terry,
Eve St. Jones,
Camberwell Now,
June Days,
Guru Guru,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ornette Coleman,
Albert Ayler,
Oneida,
The Alarm Clocks,
Los Fastidios,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sister Nancy,
The Fuzztones,
Cymande,
Jandek,
The Shadows of Knight,
Frankie Knuckles,
Boredoms,
Interpol,
Kenny Larkin,
Electric Prunes,
Desert Stars,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Symarip,
Tommy Roe,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Monochrome Set,
The Music Machine,
Ultra Naté,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sound Behaviour,
PIL,
Bad Manners,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rakim,
Terrestrial Tones,
Inner City,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.