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 Paraguay and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Magazine to the punk 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Television,
Man Eating Sloth,
B.T. Express,
T.S.O.L.,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Barrington Levy,
Sam Rivers,
The Trojans,
The Kinks,
ABBA,
Pierre Henry,
Theoretical Girls,
Das Ding,
Zapp,
Ludus,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tomorrow,
The Fall,
Sex Pistols,
Steve Hackett,
The Fire Engines,
The Black Dice,
48th St. Collective,
The Associates,
Moebius,
The Wake,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bill Near,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Porter Ricks,
These Immortal Souls,
The Slackers,
Ossler,
Monolake,
Flipper,
Suicide,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Quando Quango,
Circle Jerks,
Pussy Galore,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Darondo,
Archie Shepp,
Brick,
David Axelrod,
Matthew Bourne,
Sound Behaviour,
The Selecter,
Reuben Wilson,
Boredoms,
Newcleus,
The Angels of Light,
Magazine,
Sun City Girls,
Alphaville,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Arab on Radar,
The Last Poets,
Marvin Gaye,
Dark Day,
Aaron Thompson,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.