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 Tanzania and from Toronto.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 the Bar-Kays to the jazz 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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Litter,
Matthew Halsall,
Public Enemy,
Sex Pistols,
Nik Kershaw,
a-ha,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Marine Girls,
AZ,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Swell Maps,
Don Cherry,
KRS-One,
Eric Copeland,
Fatback Band,
John Holt,
Ultra Naté,
Kayak,
FM Einheit,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joensuu 1685,
Lindisfarne,
Iggy Pop,
Man Parrish,
This Heat,
Warren Ellis,
Eddi Front,
Suicide,
Swans,
Eve St. Jones,
Excepter,
Unrelated Segments,
Stereo Dub,
The Gun Club,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mary Jane Girls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wolf Eyes,
Arab on Radar,
The Saints,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sight & Sound,
Alphaville,
Juan Atkins,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Neu!,
Qualms,
Neil Young,
Quantec,
June Days,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mr. Review,
Das Ding,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jandek,
Monks,
Hasil Adkins,
Index,
Parry Music,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.