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 Philippines and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 güiro 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 LL Cool J to the electroclash 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pulsallama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Swell Maps,
Kurtis Blow,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Association,
Sun City Girls,
Joe Finger,
Crispian St. Peters,
Symarip,
Yaz,
Donald Byrd,
Kaleidoscope,
Monolake,
Jeff Lynne,
F. McDonald,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Funky Four + One,
Joey Negro,
Kool Moe Dee,
Delta 5,
Buzzcocks,
Minor Threat,
The American Breed,
Aloha Tigers,
The Smoke,
Boz Scaggs,
The Electric Prunes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bob Dylan,
Severed Heads,
Jerry's Kids,
Sex Pistols,
Brothers Johnson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Janne Schatter,
Moss Icon,
Sarah Menescal,
Thee Headcoats,
Suicide,
The Pretty Things,
Kenny Larkin,
T.S.O.L.,
Magma,
Avey Tare,
Fear,
Gabor Szabo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scott Walker,
Harry Pussy,
Cameo,
Talk Talk,
Morten Harket,
Depeche Mode,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Gories,
Lungfish,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Toasters,
Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins.
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.