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 Sri Lanka and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Jakarta and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Alarm Clocks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brand Nubian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Kool Moe Dee,
Spandau Ballet,
Pulsallama,
John Lydon,
Fat Boys,
Dorothy Ashby,
Black Moon,
Adolescents,
Gregory Isaacs,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Piero Umiliani,
Gong,
Talk Talk,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Zero Boys,
Lucky Dragons,
A Certain Ratio,
Scrapy,
Silicon Teens,
Japan,
Index,
The Sound,
Babytalk,
Crispian St. Peters,
Negative Approach,
Don Cherry,
Flash Fearless,
The Five Americans,
The Detroit Cobras,
Davy DMX,
Jawbox,
Inner City,
The Black Dice,
Reuben Wilson,
MC5,
Jerry's Kids,
Electric Prunes,
Lungfish,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bob Dylan,
Deadbeat,
Aloha Tigers,
Quando Quango,
Flipper,
the Sonics,
Andrew Hill,
One Last Wish,
The Happenings,
Basic Channel,
The Residents,
Warsaw,
Bad Manners,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Metal Thangz,
Stiv Bators,
David Axelrod,
Arab on Radar,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.