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 Yemen and from Halifax.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Qualms to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
Babytalk,
Lyres,
Sun City Girls,
Iggy Pop,
Bad Manners,
Reagan Youth,
The Blackbyrds,
Thee Headcoats,
Deakin,
Q and Not U,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Steve Hackett,
ABC,
The Mummies,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Fuzztones,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joy Division,
The Divine Comedy,
Eve St. Jones,
Terry Callier,
Sarah Menescal,
Agitation Free,
Eurythmics,
Blossom Toes,
Radio Birdman,
Alice Coltrane,
Gregory Isaacs,
Intrusion,
Soul Sonic Force,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eddi Front,
Donald Byrd,
Malaria!,
Lebanon Hanover,
Faust,
Jacques Brel,
Kayak,
Unrelated Segments,
Q65,
Black Pus,
Bobby Byrd,
Howard Jones,
The Litter,
Amon Düül,
Fifty Foot Hose,
DJ Sneak,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Tom Boy,
Suburban Knight,
Royal Trux,
Lou Reed,
Stockholm Monsters,
Excepter,
Buzzcocks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Gun Club,
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.