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 Nicaragua and from Shanghai.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Modern Lovers to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jimmy McGriff,
Main Source,
The Associates,
Bootsy Collins,
Excepter,
Ultravox,
Toni Rubio,
Avey Tare,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Slackers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Skaos,
The Seeds,
John Foxx,
Tears for Fears,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ludus,
Michelle Simonal,
D'Angelo,
Sarah Menescal,
Josef K,
Nas,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cecil Taylor,
The Move,
Zapp,
Procol Harum,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Minny Pops,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Monks,
New York Dolls,
Boz Scaggs,
Mark Hollis,
Zero Boys,
Joe Finger,
The Victims,
Vainqueur,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kerri Chandler,
Royal Trux,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Walker Brothers,
The Techniques,
Alison Limerick,
Essential Logic,
The Electric Prunes,
Dual Sessions,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Five Americans,
FM Einheit,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Brass Construction,
Stiv Bators,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marine Girls,
Second Layer,
Crash Course in Science,
This Heat,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.