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 Liechtenstein and from Lyon.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Severed Heads to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flash Fearless record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
Sixth Finger,
Sugar Minott,
Marc Almond,
Barry Ungar,
Funky Four + One,
Marvin Gaye,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Little Man,
Stiv Bators,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Black Bananas,
Stockholm Monsters,
Fat Boys,
Gabor Szabo,
Wally Richardson,
The Neon Judgement,
Crash Course in Science,
Warren Ellis,
Nick Fraelich,
The Birthday Party,
Ponytail,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Deepchord,
Bronski Beat,
Kool Moe Dee,
Second Layer,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Shuggie Otis,
Lower 48,
Index,
Jawbox,
Darondo,
Jesper Dahlback,
Fatback Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lightning Bolt,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Alice Coltrane,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Parry Music,
Rod Modell,
Zapp,
Maurizio,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nik Kershaw,
Radiopuhelimet,
KRS-One,
Hot Snakes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pussy Galore,
James White and The Blacks,
Animal Collective,
The Five Americans,
Matthew Halsall,
Public Enemy,
Fugazi,
Avey Tare,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.