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 Lithuania and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 spring reverb 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the punk 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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
Marvin Gaye,
Shoche,
Don Cherry,
Graham Central Station,
One Last Wish,
Quadrant,
The Monks,
Kaleidoscope,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Evens,
Wally Richardson,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Skatalites,
The Slackers,
Sun City Girls,
Kas Product,
The Angels of Light,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Aswad,
Jawbox,
The Names,
Livin' Joy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ultra Naté,
Newcleus,
Angry Samoans,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Supertramp,
Moss Icon,
Danielle Patucci,
The Slits,
Lou Reed,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Oneida,
Joyce Sims,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Tears for Fears,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Skaos,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Kinks,
The Fugs,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bobby Womack,
Nico,
Deakin,
Jacob Miller,
Lou Christie,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Germs,
Nirvana,
Joensuu 1685,
Mr. Review,
Funkadelic,
kango's stein massive,
Archie Shepp,
The Beau Brummels,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.