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 Venezuela and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 oboe 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 The Fugs to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Todd Rundgren,
Icehouse,
The New Christs,
Bluetip,
Hoover,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bush Tetras,
Black Moon,
Soft Cell,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Names,
The Dead C,
Whodini,
Scrapy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
ABC,
Bill Wells,
Isaac Hayes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pierre Henry,
Average White Band,
The Offenders,
Rod Modell,
The Doors,
Surgeon,
Ten City,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
World's Most,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Masters at Work,
Chris Corsano,
Chris & Cosey,
PIL,
The Litter,
The Vogues,
Gregory Isaacs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dawn Penn,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Barry Ungar,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
New Age Steppers,
The Human League,
the Slits,
Sugar Minott,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sonny Sharrock,
the Human League,
Jandek,
Avey Tare,
Terrestrial Tones,
Peter & Gordon,
Marcia Griffiths,
Tubeway Army,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Franke,
Terry Callier,
Ornette Coleman,
Jawbox,
David Bowie,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.