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 Romania and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 spring reverb 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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the grunge 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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Patti Smith,
Half Japanese,
Con Funk Shun,
June of 44,
Terry Callier,
Q and Not U,
Altered Images,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eli Mardock,
X-101,
Wally Richardson,
John Foxx,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bush Tetras,
Brick,
Gong,
The Blues Magoos,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dennis Brown,
Barbara Tucker,
Sam Rivers,
the Bar-Kays,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Victims,
Brothers Johnson,
ABC,
The Slackers,
Technova,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Darondo,
Sound Behaviour,
Black Pus,
Radio Birdman,
Gregory Isaacs,
Roxette,
Popol Vuh,
48th St. Collective,
Trumans Water,
The Barracudas,
Pierre Henry,
Donald Byrd,
The Count Five,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sexual Harrassment,
Khruangbin,
Procol Harum,
Bauhaus,
the Slits,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Swell Maps,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pussy Galore,
Youth Brigade,
Tropical Tobacco,
Crooked Eye,
Wings,
H. Thieme,
Toni Rubio,
Jandek,
Mo-Dettes,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.