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 Mexico and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 clarinet 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 Warren Ellis to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
John Lydon,
Stiv Bators,
Fear,
Flash Fearless,
Gerry Rafferty,
Faust,
Minor Threat,
Joe Finger,
Kayak,
Das Ding,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bobby Byrd,
Panda Bear,
Shoche,
The Index,
Shuggie Otis,
H. Thieme,
Funkadelic,
June of 44,
Black Moon,
Inner City,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jeff Lynne,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Last Poets,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Blossom Toes,
Surgeon,
OOIOO,
Arab on Radar,
Magma,
The Sonics,
The Shadows of Knight,
Eli Mardock,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Accadde A,
Albert Ayler,
Maurizio,
Porter Ricks,
The Fugs,
Little Man,
The Dave Clark Five,
Rites of Spring,
Wasted Youth,
Youth Brigade,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pulsallama,
the Sonics,
La Düsseldorf,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tom Boy,
Wings,
Carl Craig,
AZ,
The Motions,
Man Parrish,
Kurtis Blow,
Depeche Mode,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.