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 Sierra Leone and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Copenhagen.
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 organ 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 The Happenings to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
The Litter,
Donny Hathaway,
The Residents,
David Bowie,
Television Personalities,
The Toasters,
Inner City,
Brand Nubian,
Wasted Youth,
Skriet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Mojo Men,
The Techniques,
Tres Demented,
Fela Kuti,
Pagans,
Erasure,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Slick Rick,
Thee Headcoats,
Black Bananas,
The Moleskins,
Wings,
The Stooges,
Outsiders,
Rufus Thomas,
Glenn Branca,
Dennis Brown,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
John Coltrane,
New York Dolls,
Ohio Players,
The Tremeloes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kas Product,
The Shadows of Knight,
Dorothy Ashby,
David McCallum,
Pierre Henry,
Theoretical Girls,
Brothers Johnson,
Flipper,
Skarface,
Grauzone,
Peter & Gordon,
The Names,
Amazonics,
The Martian,
OOIOO,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Human League,
The Cramps,
Siglo XX,
Metal Thangz,
Scion,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Mark Hollis,
Crooked Eye,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers.
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.