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 Kiribati 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the dance 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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
U.S. Maple,
Banda Bassotti,
Tomorrow,
Fear,
Harry Pussy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Black Moon,
The Golliwogs,
Derrick May,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
James White and The Blacks,
DJ Sneak,
Barrington Levy,
Eden Ahbez,
Accadde A,
Faraquet,
Sixth Finger,
Eurythmics,
Von Mondo,
Porter Ricks,
Icehouse,
Barbara Tucker,
The Knickerbockers,
Terry Callier,
Josef K,
Black Bananas,
Moebius,
Bang On A Can,
Dead Boys,
Roger Hodgson,
Scratch Acid,
Electric Prunes,
Hardrive,
Stereo Dub,
Agitation Free,
The Fortunes,
DJ Style,
John Foxx,
Wolf Eyes,
Girls At Our Best!,
Oblivians,
Delta 5,
Neil Young,
Crooked Eye,
The Toasters,
Jeff Mills,
Dawn Penn,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tim Buckley,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Maurizio,
Unwound,
Rites of Spring,
Jandek,
Young Marble Giants,
Mission of Burma,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.