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 Bhutan and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Calgary.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Eric Copeland to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick 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 '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 Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Au Pairs,
Jeff Lynne,
Maurizio,
David Axelrod,
Circle Jerks,
Roxette,
Radio Birdman,
Subhumans,
Lindisfarne,
Silicon Teens,
The Cowsills,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Parry Music,
Pulsallama,
Unrelated Segments,
Gang Gang Dance,
Anthony Braxton,
Motorama,
Kaleidoscope,
Eddi Front,
Patti Smith,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Model 500,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Joyce Sims,
Robert Hood,
Rhythm & Sound,
Warren Ellis,
Icehouse,
Gerry Rafferty,
Archie Shepp,
Aural Exciters,
Boz Scaggs,
Blancmange,
Tom Boy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Darondo,
X-Ray Spex,
Bobby Byrd,
Tears for Fears,
Make Up,
The Detroit Cobras,
R.M.O.,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Warsaw,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Cure,
The Cramps,
The Fugs,
H. Thieme,
Charles Mingus,
Idris Muhammad,
The Slits,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
OOIOO,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.