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 Malaysia and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the 808 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 T. Rex to the rap 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 The New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
The Dirtbombs,
John Cale,
Reagan Youth,
Ludus,
Deadbeat,
Cybotron,
Section 25,
Man Parrish,
The Count Five,
Surgeon,
Funkadelic,
Max Romeo,
The Invisible,
the Sonics,
The Moleskins,
Tim Buckley,
8 Eyed Spy,
Matthew Bourne,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lindisfarne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Audionom,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Thee Headcoats,
Neil Young,
The Skatalites,
Moby Grape,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nirvana,
Hasil Adkins,
Don Cherry,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Blossom Toes,
Yaz,
R.M.O.,
Index,
Scrapy,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Five Americans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Gap Band,
The Blackbyrds,
Amon Düül II,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Agitation Free,
The Remains,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Letta Mbulu,
Japan,
The Victims,
Mr. Review,
Ponytail,
The Raincoats,
Pole,
Jerry's Kids,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.