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 Afghanistan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Altered Images to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All DJ Sneak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Smog,
Buzzcocks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Groovy Waters,
Vainqueur,
PIL,
The Buckinghams,
Drexciya,
Mr. Review,
Tears for Fears,
The Evens,
Idris Muhammad,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Delta 5,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The New Christs,
Joyce Sims,
Barry Ungar,
Section 25,
Donald Byrd,
Connie Case,
John Foxx,
John Coltrane,
Barrington Levy,
Cybotron,
Q65,
Pere Ubu,
The Moody Blues,
Desert Stars,
Donny Hathaway,
Henry Cow,
Prince Buster,
The Selecter,
Porter Ricks,
Davy DMX,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Leaves,
Drive Like Jehu,
Quando Quango,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Second Layer,
Kerri Chandler,
The Smoke,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Scientists,
Minor Threat,
Alton Ellis,
Wings,
Easy Going,
The Happenings,
Stockholm Monsters,
Alphaville,
L. Decosne,
The Real Kids,
the Human League,
Das Ding,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Neil Young,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.