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 Spain and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 CMW. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris & Cosey 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Con Funk Shun,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Star Department,
Chris Corsano,
Agitation Free,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
ABC,
Anakelly,
The Martian,
Jeru the Damaja,
Brand Nubian,
EPMD,
Lalann,
Eve St. Jones,
Khruangbin,
The Black Dice,
Camberwell Now,
Urselle,
Goldenarms,
R.M.O.,
The Invisible,
Scratch Acid,
James White and The Blacks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Barry Ungar,
Ultimate Spinach,
Livin' Joy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Neil Young,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
KRS-One,
Skriet,
John Foxx,
Black Flag,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Circle Jerks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Standells,
The Buckinghams,
The Dead C,
Newcleus,
Ossler,
The Gladiators,
Junior Murvin,
Marc Almond,
These Immortal Souls,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Liliput,
Franke,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Scion,
The Human League,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lou Reed,
The Moody Blues,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.