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 Maldives and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 harpsichord 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 Doors to the crunk 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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All China Crisis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Victims,
Can,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Sonics,
Sister Nancy,
Sonic Youth,
Country Teasers,
CMW,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Harry Pussy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
MC5,
Gang of Four,
Fat Boys,
Robert Wyatt,
Severed Heads,
The Wake,
F. McDonald,
Kayak,
Matthew Bourne,
Monks,
Skarface,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Freddie Wadling,
Mo-Dettes,
Donald Byrd,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jandek,
The Toasters,
Carl Craig,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bootsy Collins,
Yazoo,
Sight & Sound,
Laurel Aitken,
Sex Pistols,
Buzzcocks,
Don Cherry,
Minutemen,
Fad Gadget,
Babytalk,
Nas,
Siglo XX,
Alice Coltrane,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Dennis Brown,
Young Marble Giants,
Mary Jane Girls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wire,
Man Parrish,
Flamin' Groovies,
UT,
Scott Walker,
Judy Mowatt,
the Human League,
Janne Schatter,
Jerry's Kids,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Seeds,
The Slackers,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.