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 South Sudan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 linndrum 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 Red Krayola to the disco 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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glambeats Corp. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Clear Light,
Reuben Wilson,
Rekid,
Deepchord,
Delon & Dalcan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Todd Rundgren,
The Fugs,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Martian,
Y Pants,
The Fall,
The Grass Roots,
Ten City,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Alphaville,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Aural Exciters,
Second Layer,
Harry Pussy,
Mo-Dettes,
Susan Cadogan,
Franke,
Radio Birdman,
Bootsy Collins,
Ossler,
Amon Düül II,
Yellowson,
Kurtis Blow,
Fatback Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Normal,
the Fania All-Stars,
F. McDonald,
The Wake,
Suicide,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Stiv Bators,
Outsiders,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Avey Tare,
Barry Ungar,
The Young Rascals,
Mission of Burma,
Guru Guru,
Man Parrish,
48th St. Collective,
Rufus Thomas,
Warren Ellis,
The J.B.'s,
Swell Maps,
Sister Nancy,
The Trojans,
Soft Machine,
Cal Tjader,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Con Funk Shun,
Jeff Lynne,
Unwound,
Subhumans,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.