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 Netherlands and from London.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 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 Residents to the rock 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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple 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?
Throbbing Gristle,
The Mummies,
Judy Mowatt,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Drexciya,
Mars,
Harry Pussy,
The Move,
Monks,
The Stooges,
Rekid,
Michelle Simonal,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Aloha Tigers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Mojo Men,
DJ Sneak,
Eden Ahbez,
Kas Product,
U.S. Maple,
The Fall,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Interpol,
Pet Shop Boys,
Max Romeo,
Thee Headcoats,
Franke,
Leonard Cohen,
Los Fastidios,
Arcadia,
Jesper Dahlback,
Schoolly D,
The Gories,
The Remains,
Sun Ra,
Swell Maps,
Girls At Our Best!,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bobby Byrd,
Newcleus,
Ludus,
Yazoo,
Joy Division,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Byron Stingily,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Toni Rubio,
Jerry's Kids,
Siglo XX,
Boredoms,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Birthday Party,
Shoche,
Monolake,
Jawbox,
Y Pants,
Country Teasers,
The Star Department,
Nik Kershaw,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.