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 Kyrgyzstan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 synthesizer 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 Drexciya to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Warsaw,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Durutti Column,
Agitation Free,
Jeff Lynne,
Mars,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kerrie Biddell,
Can,
Man Parrish,
Trumans Water,
Jacob Miller,
The Gladiators,
Youth Brigade,
Bill Wells,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
cv313,
Brand Nubian,
Crash Course in Science,
Alison Limerick,
Rod Modell,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cheater Slicks,
Hardrive,
Arthur Verocai,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Babytalk,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Divine Comedy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Moby Grape,
Fatback Band,
Archie Shepp,
The Five Americans,
T. Rex,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Smoke,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Sonics,
Mad Mike,
Sugar Minott,
Matthew Halsall,
Dark Day,
These Immortal Souls,
Wally Richardson,
Vainqueur,
Terry Callier,
Dawn Penn,
Ituana,
Eli Mardock,
Ralphi Rosario,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Harmonia,
Byron Stingily,
Carl Craig,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Minnie Riperton,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
New York Dolls,
Kurtis Blow,
Jawbox,
MDC, MDC, MDC, MDC.
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.