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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Winnipeg.
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 Wolf Eyes to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
New Age Steppers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pylon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Public Enemy,
The Last Poets,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Hashim,
Icehouse,
Bang On A Can,
Stockholm Monsters,
Black Sheep,
Soft Cell,
Average White Band,
Scion,
Spandau Ballet,
Lou Reed,
DJ Style,
The Cure,
The Young Rascals,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Jacques Brel,
the Germs,
Eddi Front,
Porter Ricks,
Wasted Youth,
The Leaves,
Pierre Henry,
The Modern Lovers,
Tears for Fears,
Judy Mowatt,
Thee Headcoats,
Masters at Work,
The Fugs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Khruangbin,
Marcia Griffiths,
E-Dancer,
Lakeside,
Sight & Sound,
Anthony Braxton,
Jeff Mills,
La Düsseldorf,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Remains,
Black Bananas,
Flipper,
ABC,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Shadows of Knight,
Arcadia,
Soulsonic Force,
Colin Newman,
Deepchord,
Magazine,
Pantytec,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Birthday Party,
Vainqueur,
The Seeds,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.