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 Bangladesh and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 rhodes 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 Girls At Our Best! to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Rhythim Is Rhythim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bush Tetras,
Wire,
Rapeman,
Mantronix,
Suburban Knight,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Neon Judgement,
Ice-T,
The Index,
China Crisis,
David Bowie,
Jacob Miller,
Jesper Dahlback,
Organ,
The Vogues,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Visage,
Q and Not U,
Eve St. Jones,
Maleditus Sound,
X-101,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ultravox,
Fad Gadget,
The Standells,
Amon Düül,
In Retrospect,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Cure,
EPMD,
Sun City Girls,
Chrome,
Minutemen,
Sandy B,
Grauzone,
Al Stewart,
Morten Harket,
Delta 5,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pantytec,
Sight & Sound,
Jerry Gold Smith,
R.M.O.,
Audionom,
Dead Boys,
Camberwell Now,
Jacques Brel,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Reuben Wilson,
Harry Pussy,
The Blues Magoos,
Funkadelic,
Barrington Levy,
The Cramps,
Lower 48,
Susan Cadogan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Surgeon,
CMW,
The Gun Club,
The Evens,
Malaria!,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.