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 Guinea and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 theremin 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 Sex Pistols to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Motions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
China Crisis,
The Saints,
Organ,
Brothers Johnson,
X-102,
Duran Duran,
The American Breed,
Metal Thangz,
The Cure,
Barry Ungar,
Bronski Beat,
The Gap Band,
Joensuu 1685,
Glenn Branca,
Suicide,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cymande,
Ronan,
In Retrospect,
The Dirtbombs,
Moss Icon,
Skarface,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Real Kids,
Bluetip,
Lyres,
The Beau Brummels,
The Dead C,
Patti Smith,
Dave Gahan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Janne Schatter,
June Days,
Wolf Eyes,
The Sound,
Grey Daturas,
Lower 48,
Aural Exciters,
Second Layer,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
a-ha,
Y Pants,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jerry Gold Smith,
David Bowie,
The Busters,
Television,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bobby Womack,
JFA,
Babytalk,
Newcleus,
The Wake,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Slits,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Fear,
The J.B.'s,
Japan,
The Velvet Underground,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.