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 Seychelles and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Deakin to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yusef Lateef 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?
Organ,
Gang Green,
The Move,
Vainqueur,
F. McDonald,
Essential Logic,
Pere Ubu,
Theoretical Girls,
Schoolly D,
Morten Harket,
Matthew Halsall,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sparks,
Mandrill,
K-Klass,
Skriet,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Minny Pops,
Blossom Toes,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bang On A Can,
Flipper,
Man Parrish,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Joe Finger,
Pylon,
Nico,
Rites of Spring,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Kinks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Skarface,
Yaz,
Deadbeat,
Depeche Mode,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Slits,
Young Marble Giants,
The Electric Prunes,
The Searchers,
Ultravox,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fela Kuti,
Graham Central Station,
The Vogues,
Infiniti,
Hoover,
Barbara Tucker,
The Fortunes,
The Mojo Men,
Y Pants,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ultra Naté,
Faraquet,
L. Decosne,
The Birthday Party,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pussy Galore,
Nils Olav,
The Happenings,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.