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 Fiji and from Glasgow.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 clarinet 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 Monks to the rock 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 Spandau Ballet. All the underground hits.
All Delta 5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Max Romeo,
Suicide,
Moby Grape,
Roxy Music,
John Coltrane,
Chris & Cosey,
Public Enemy,
Qualms,
Man Eating Sloth,
Crooked Eye,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Fall,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Visage,
Q and Not U,
Symarip,
Tubeway Army,
Iggy Pop,
The Skatalites,
Au Pairs,
Mr. Review,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sonic Youth,
Anakelly,
Parry Music,
Wolf Eyes,
Sam Rivers,
Kerrie Biddell,
AZ,
Steve Hackett,
Marc Almond,
Arcadia,
Chris Corsano,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ossler,
OOIOO,
Trumans Water,
Juan Atkins,
Faraquet,
The Standells,
The Names,
The Cramps,
Altered Images,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Seeds,
Japan,
Bill Near,
Lakeside,
Warsaw,
David Axelrod,
Amazonics,
the Soft Cell,
The Doors,
Darondo,
Eddi Front,
MDC,
Hasil Adkins,
Easy Going,
China Crisis,
The Slackers,
The Mummies,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.