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 Macedonia and from Paris.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Drive Like Jehu to the electroclash 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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Althea and Donna,
Organ,
T.S.O.L.,
EPMD,
Cecil Taylor,
Ultra Naté,
The Velvet Underground,
Johnny Clarke,
Boz Scaggs,
Michelle Simonal,
Byron Stingily,
Sixth Finger,
Youth Brigade,
Jandek,
The Divine Comedy,
Harry Pussy,
Essential Logic,
Mo-Dettes,
Mary Jane Girls,
John Cale,
Marvin Gaye,
Rekid,
Lightning Bolt,
Connie Case,
Barry Ungar,
Lucky Dragons,
The Motions,
Roxette,
The Sound,
Popol Vuh,
Steve Hackett,
Archie Shepp,
Crispy Ambulance,
Barbara Tucker,
Rufus Thomas,
Sonny Sharrock,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gastr Del Sol,
Graham Central Station,
The Monks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Monolake,
Minnie Riperton,
Arthur Verocai,
Hardrive,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Whodini,
The Offenders,
Bauhaus,
The Real Kids,
Radio Birdman,
JFA,
Al Stewart,
Janne Schatter,
the Human League,
Aural Exciters,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Soft Cell,
Black Flag,
Stereo Dub,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.