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 Sudan 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Mars to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Harmonia,
Eve St. Jones,
Joyce Sims,
The Moleskins,
Aswad,
The Offenders,
World's Most,
The Fire Engines,
X-101,
Deadbeat,
Bobby Womack,
Nils Olav,
DNA,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roger Hodgson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Schoolly D,
Nas,
Desert Stars,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Amon Düül,
Suburban Knight,
Thompson Twins,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Misunderstood,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Slackers,
Shoche,
Joensuu 1685,
Pagans,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Flash Fearless,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Doors,
Scion,
Intrusion,
Television Personalities,
Quadrant,
the Fania All-Stars,
ABC,
Average White Band,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Spandau Ballet,
Young Marble Giants,
The Golliwogs,
Depeche Mode,
Cecil Taylor,
Archie Shepp,
John Holt,
Anakelly,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lindisfarne,
Quantec,
One Last Wish,
Matthew Bourne,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
DJ Sneak,
Don Cherry,
Country Teasers,
Blake Baxter,
The Young Rascals,
Sound Behaviour,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.