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 Barbados and from Shanghai.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Franke to the funk 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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hoover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Angry Samoans,
Alice Coltrane,
Minny Pops,
Das Ding,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gang Green,
Lou Christie,
Kaleidoscope,
Wolf Eyes,
The Fall,
Pierre Henry,
Soft Machine,
New York Dolls,
Black Bananas,
Hardrive,
Ice-T,
Lucky Dragons,
Alison Limerick,
Ronan,
Wally Richardson,
The Red Krayola,
Albert Ayler,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Metal Thangz,
Harry Pussy,
Scan 7,
The Pretty Things,
Carl Craig,
Neil Young,
Electric Prunes,
This Heat,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Grass Roots,
T.S.O.L.,
Chris Corsano,
The Litter,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jawbox,
Susan Cadogan,
Ossler,
Scientists,
The Gun Club,
The Residents,
Amon Düül,
Vladislav Delay,
Boz Scaggs,
Camberwell Now,
Swell Maps,
Barrington Levy,
Public Enemy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Black Flag,
Grauzone,
AZ,
Oblivians,
Archie Shepp,
Grey Daturas,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Angels of Light,
Aswad,
Man Parrish,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.