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 Kazakhstan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bizarre Inc. to the rock 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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
John Coltrane,
Sarah Menescal,
The Birthday Party,
The Leaves,
Mad Mike,
Average White Band,
Alton Ellis,
B.T. Express,
The Cowsills,
The Shadows of Knight,
Swell Maps,
The Offenders,
Sun Ra,
Lalann,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Anakelly,
Aaron Thompson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jerry's Kids,
Scan 7,
OOIOO,
Ludus,
Fela Kuti,
The American Breed,
James White and The Blacks,
Roger Hodgson,
Sällskapet,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Arab on Radar,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Icehouse,
Tres Demented,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Alarm Clocks,
Theoretical Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Moby Grape,
These Immortal Souls,
The Move,
John Cale,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kayak,
Sound Behaviour,
Thompson Twins,
Terry Callier,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fat Boys,
Ponytail,
Rekid,
Sam Rivers,
Country Teasers,
Boogie Down Productions,
Marshall Jefferson,
Johnny Clarke,
Trumans Water,
Tears for Fears,
Dead Boys,
Mark Hollis,
The Trojans,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.