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 Philippines and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the jazz 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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Icehouse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Wally Richardson,
Roger Hodgson,
Isaac Hayes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Doobie Brothers,
10cc,
Maleditus Sound,
Warsaw,
Cecil Taylor,
Tubeway Army,
Symarip,
Archie Shepp,
Average White Band,
Marc Almond,
Junior Murvin,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Germs,
Ten City,
Shuggie Otis,
Pierre Henry,
The Beau Brummels,
Connie Case,
The Alarm Clocks,
Brass Construction,
Swans,
Graham Central Station,
X-Ray Spex,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mad Mike,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Todd Terry,
Adolescents,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Wolf Eyes,
Pharoah Sanders,
In Retrospect,
June Days,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minnie Riperton,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Blossom Toes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Martian,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rosa Yemen,
Freddie Wadling,
These Immortal Souls,
Boz Scaggs,
Monolake,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Barrington Levy,
La Düsseldorf,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Alison Limerick,
Loose Ends,
Barclay James Harvest,
Organ,
Arcadia,
The Evens,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.