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 Honduras and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mumbai.
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 harpsichord 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 Sam Rivers to the electroclash 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 Cameo. All the underground hits.
All Zero Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Grauzone,
T.S.O.L.,
Young Marble Giants,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Neon Judgement,
Marine Girls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ossler,
Jandek,
Oneida,
Y Pants,
AZ,
Donald Byrd,
Cluster,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Music Machine,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
New Age Steppers,
Davy DMX,
The Skatalites,
The Seeds,
Whodini,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bauhaus,
Tommy Roe,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Liliput,
Matthew Bourne,
Althea and Donna,
Soul II Soul,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Swans,
Byron Stingily,
Procol Harum,
Delta 5,
Warren Ellis,
Roxy Music,
Unrelated Segments,
Roger Hodgson,
Nico,
Vladislav Delay,
The Count Five,
The Offenders,
The Evens,
The Zeros,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pulsallama,
The Happenings,
The Sonics,
Make Up,
Brass Construction,
Public Image Ltd.,
Popol Vuh,
Marmalade,
Cheater Slicks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bob Dylan,
Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez.
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.