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 Cape Verde and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 10cc to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang on a Can All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Parry Music,
The Standells,
Black Bananas,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Popol Vuh,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fluxion,
Supertramp,
Icehouse,
The Angels of Light,
Rosa Yemen,
Pantytec,
Tim Buckley,
Roxette,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
OOIOO,
Eve St. Jones,
Pylon,
Jerry's Kids,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Infiniti,
Con Funk Shun,
Delta 5,
Joey Negro,
Audionom,
Hoover,
Y Pants,
Minny Pops,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Litter,
This Heat,
The Slits,
Prince Buster,
Angry Samoans,
Black Sheep,
Soulsonic Force,
Banda Bassotti,
Ultra Naté,
The Mummies,
Minnie Riperton,
Throbbing Gristle,
Junior Murvin,
The Gap Band,
F. McDonald,
Terry Callier,
Jandek,
the Soft Cell,
Suburban Knight,
Lyres,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Heaven 17,
Glambeats Corp.,
Roger Hodgson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Technova,
Bad Manners,
R.M.O.,
Hardrive,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scott Walker,
Ornette Coleman,
The Human League,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.