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 Georgia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Techniques to the grunge 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Wings,
The Monks,
The Last Poets,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Fall,
Suicide,
John Holt,
The Blues Magoos,
Soul II Soul,
Malaria!,
a-ha,
The Move,
The Remains,
Qualms,
Godley & Creme,
48th St. Collective,
Jawbox,
Spoonie Gee,
Radio Birdman,
The Red Krayola,
X-102,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Barracudas,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Cure,
Index,
The Alarm Clocks,
David McCallum,
Ponytail,
Barry Ungar,
Rites of Spring,
Soft Machine,
Funkadelic,
Letta Mbulu,
Yellowson,
Danielle Patucci,
F. McDonald,
Iggy Pop,
Sixth Finger,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cecil Taylor,
Hashim,
Ten City,
Cluster,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Mummies,
The Blackbyrds,
Organ,
Blancmange,
Jacques Brel,
Quando Quango,
Cal Tjader,
Stiv Bators,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Loose Ends,
ABBA,
Model 500,
Moss Icon,
Magma,
Archie Shepp,
Aural Exciters,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.