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 Comoros and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Lee Hazlewood to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Wake. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fluxion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
The Litter,
Duran Duran,
Johnny Osbourne,
Public Enemy,
Matthew Halsall,
Young Marble Giants,
La Düsseldorf,
Piero Umiliani,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lindisfarne,
The Residents,
Todd Rundgren,
Gang Green,
Carl Craig,
Theoretical Girls,
Pulsallama,
Robert Görl,
Minutemen,
Kayak,
Spandau Ballet,
Oblivians,
Funky Four + One,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bang On A Can,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Cluster,
Mary Jane Girls,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Unrelated Segments,
Minor Threat,
Brothers Johnson,
the Germs,
DNA,
Yusef Lateef,
Agent Orange,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bob Dylan,
The Dead C,
Terry Callier,
AZ,
Aloha Tigers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pere Ubu,
Organ,
Ash Ra Tempel,
John Cale,
The Dirtbombs,
Donald Byrd,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marc Almond,
Suburban Knight,
Hot Snakes,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tom Boy,
The Blackbyrds,
The Sound,
Tubeway Army,
Symarip,
Q65,
Ultravox,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.