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 Libya and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bremen.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ 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 Marc Almond to the funk 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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
48th St. Collective,
Ohio Players,
The Monks,
The Beau Brummels,
Derrick May,
The Cure,
Schoolly D,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Raincoats,
Angry Samoans,
Lalann,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Alice Coltrane,
Pet Shop Boys,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
China Crisis,
The Young Rascals,
In Retrospect,
Suburban Knight,
Rites of Spring,
Gong,
Thee Headcoats,
Shuggie Otis,
Minor Threat,
F. McDonald,
Sarah Menescal,
Glenn Branca,
Lou Christie,
Al Stewart,
Das Ding,
Second Layer,
James White and The Blacks,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Soft Cell,
Gang of Four,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Dead C,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sister Nancy,
Oneida,
Khruangbin,
Fatback Band,
The Happenings,
Barry Ungar,
Magazine,
John Cale,
John Foxx,
a-ha,
Rosa Yemen,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Gun Club,
Black Pus,
the Germs,
Faraquet,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Accadde A,
X-102,
Bizarre Inc.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Anthony Braxton,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mission of Burma,
The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers.
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.