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 Belize and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 guitar 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 Liliput to the crunk 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Jesus and Mary Chain 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 sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
Lightning Bolt,
The Doors,
Smog,
Curtis Mayfield,
Boredoms,
the Normal,
Johnny Osbourne,
Wolf Eyes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ossler,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Y Pants,
New York Dolls,
Crime,
The American Breed,
Can,
The Dead C,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Sonics,
Joyce Sims,
The Saints,
Skaos,
Sonic Youth,
Neu!,
Lyres,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cecil Taylor,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Al Stewart,
Half Japanese,
The Kinks,
Angry Samoans,
Adolescents,
Unrelated Segments,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Hashim,
The Techniques,
cv313,
X-101,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Fire Engines,
Sex Pistols,
Joe Finger,
Sparks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cameo,
L. Decosne,
Unwound,
Donald Byrd,
Minor Threat,
Barbara Tucker,
Masters at Work,
Man Parrish,
Fatback Band,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Kas Product,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Avey Tare,
Bronski Beat,
Scrapy,
Joy Division,
Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland.
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.