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 Armenia and from Calgary.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Oblivians to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
The United States of America,
Scott Walker,
Whodini,
Fela Kuti,
The Techniques,
Jandek,
David Axelrod,
New Order,
Cecil Taylor,
Sam Rivers,
Heaven 17,
Rufus Thomas,
Visage,
Nils Olav,
The New Christs,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Qualms,
Susan Cadogan,
Mad Mike,
Alton Ellis,
Outsiders,
B.T. Express,
Angry Samoans,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Mission of Burma,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Drexciya,
John Coltrane,
Carl Craig,
F. McDonald,
The Seeds,
One Last Wish,
The Dead C,
Joe Finger,
a-ha,
The Black Dice,
Television Personalities,
Camberwell Now,
The Mummies,
Derrick Morgan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
48th St. Collective,
The Busters,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Pop Group,
10cc,
Ultravox,
Inner City,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Germs,
Grey Daturas,
The Beau Brummels,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marmalade,
Niagra,
Nik Kershaw,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sex Pistols,
Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani.
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.