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 Kenya and from Lyon.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the guitar 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 David Axelrod to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
The Modern Lovers,
Sarah Menescal,
Roxy Music,
Public Image Ltd.,
Patti Smith,
T.S.O.L.,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gang Gang Dance,
Suicide,
Pierre Henry,
B.T. Express,
Sound Behaviour,
The Litter,
Little Man,
Pole,
Niagra,
Pulsallama,
Crispian St. Peters,
Girls At Our Best!,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Tremeloes,
Archie Shepp,
Godley & Creme,
The Moody Blues,
Tom Boy,
Aaron Thompson,
The Pretty Things,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Young Rascals,
Inner City,
Spandau Ballet,
Lindisfarne,
Q and Not U,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Cure,
The Durutti Column,
Country Teasers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mo-Dettes,
Scott Walker,
Bobby Sherman,
Procol Harum,
John Foxx,
Cybotron,
Rufus Thomas,
The Golliwogs,
John Holt,
Eli Mardock,
Avey Tare,
Reagan Youth,
Unwound,
Kenny Larkin,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bad Manners,
AZ,
Joe Finger,
Cameo,
Pharoah Sanders,
Blake Baxter,
Dark Day,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.