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 Cape Verde and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Germs to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry 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 dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald 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?
Shoche,
Sparks,
Lakeside,
Jacob Miller,
Scientists,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Busters,
Intrusion,
LL Cool J,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sight & Sound,
Deepchord,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Buckinghams,
Popol Vuh,
Jesper Dahlback,
Leonard Cohen,
Porter Ricks,
Q and Not U,
Urselle,
Radiohead,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Patti Smith,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Chris & Cosey,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Association,
Mars,
Spandau Ballet,
Arthur Verocai,
Kenny Larkin,
The Offenders,
The Doors,
This Heat,
Morten Harket,
Matthew Halsall,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Moleskins,
Fatback Band,
Nils Olav,
The Neon Judgement,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ultravox,
Amazonics,
Pet Shop Boys,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bob Dylan,
Cheater Slicks,
X-Ray Spex,
Pantaleimon,
Motorama,
Harry Pussy,
Reagan Youth,
Wire,
R.M.O.,
Technova,
Kayak,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Icehouse,
The Toasters,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus, Bauhaus.
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.