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 Ireland and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 theremin 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
The Gun Club,
FM Einheit,
The Leaves,
Livin' Joy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sun City Girls,
Wally Richardson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Young Rascals,
Erykah Badu,
Qualms,
Sister Nancy,
Jeff Lynne,
The Blackbyrds,
Can,
The Flesh Eaters,
David Axelrod,
Mo-Dettes,
Flipper,
Albert Ayler,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dorothy Ashby,
Dawn Penn,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Martian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Fatback Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Slave,
Bill Wells,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Doobie Brothers,
New York Dolls,
Bobby Sherman,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
R.M.O.,
The Monks,
Donny Hathaway,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Big Daddy Kane,
JFA,
Avey Tare,
June Days,
Pussy Galore,
Bob Dylan,
Wire,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Outsiders,
Popol Vuh,
The Offenders,
Maurizio,
John Cale,
Bizarre Inc.,
Brick,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Stiv Bators,
The Victims,
UT,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.