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 Zimbabwe and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Glenn Branca to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q65 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Heaven 17,
Camberwell Now,
Alton Ellis,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rotary Connection,
Robert Wyatt,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ossler,
Sun City Girls,
Circle Jerks,
Gabor Szabo,
Faust,
Byron Stingily,
48th St. Collective,
Junior Murvin,
The Remains,
Soul II Soul,
Masters at Work,
Minny Pops,
Steve Hackett,
Mad Mike,
Scion,
Bang On A Can,
The Sonics,
Fugazi,
Guru Guru,
Ken Boothe,
Dead Boys,
The Flesh Eaters,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kas Product,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Martian,
The Blackbyrds,
Tommy Roe,
Susan Cadogan,
the Soft Cell,
Dawn Penn,
Mo-Dettes,
Skarface,
Wire,
a-ha,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Radiohead,
Parry Music,
The Offenders,
Lou Reed,
The Selecter,
B.T. Express,
Aloha Tigers,
Cluster,
Alphaville,
Charles Mingus,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Trumans Water,
Drexciya,
K-Klass,
Alice Coltrane,
Cal Tjader,
Mandrill,
Jacob Miller,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.