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 Slovenia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 guitar 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 New York Dolls to the electroclash 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
This Heat,
Mandrill,
Tim Buckley,
Delta 5,
Mo-Dettes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Wasted Youth,
Shoche,
Swell Maps,
Au Pairs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
H. Thieme,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Evens,
These Immortal Souls,
Sarah Menescal,
Iggy Pop,
The Smoke,
Rufus Thomas,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Amazonics,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Don Cherry,
the Sonics,
Drexciya,
Laurel Aitken,
Jacob Miller,
Radiohead,
Pet Shop Boys,
Infiniti,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Fugs,
Nils Olav,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
FM Einheit,
Saccharine Trust,
David McCallum,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Panda Bear,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
A Certain Ratio,
Von Mondo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Move,
The Five Americans,
Piero Umiliani,
The Motions,
Model 500,
Animal Collective,
Harry Pussy,
Kurtis Blow,
DJ Style,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Henry Cow,
The Names,
Johnny Clarke,
Eli Mardock,
OOIOO,
Mark Hollis,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.