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 Mauritius and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 clarinet 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 Buckinghams to the disco 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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry 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 jazz 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 an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Intrusion 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 Barracudas,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Byron Stingily,
48th St. Collective,
The Beau Brummels,
Albert Ayler,
Bob Dylan,
Johnny Clarke,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
John Holt,
The Invisible,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
DNA,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kaleidoscope,
F. McDonald,
Panda Bear,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Excepter,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gabor Szabo,
Suburban Knight,
Tomorrow,
Country Teasers,
Jeff Mills,
Marine Girls,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Moebius,
The Star Department,
Black Sheep,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Intrusion,
Mission of Burma,
The Moleskins,
Circle Jerks,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Man Eating Sloth,
Shoche,
Magazine,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Blackbyrds,
Traffic Nightmare,
Shuggie Otis,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Oneida,
Tommy Roe,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Derrick May,
Babytalk,
Terry Callier,
Con Funk Shun,
Drive Like Jehu,
Monks,
Bang On A Can,
Symarip,
Sam Rivers,
Sandy B,
X-Ray Spex,
DeepChord presents Echospace, DeepChord presents Echospace, DeepChord presents Echospace, DeepChord presents Echospace.
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.