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 Kosovo and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar 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 kango's stein massive to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Gerry Rafferty,
cv313,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kerri Chandler,
The Associates,
The Raincoats,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Amon Düül,
Sarah Menescal,
Can,
This Heat,
New York Dolls,
Duran Duran,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Youth Brigade,
Sugar Minott,
Sex Pistols,
The Blues Magoos,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Young Marble Giants,
DJ Style,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eden Ahbez,
Magazine,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Gladiators,
the Swans,
Bluetip,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bauhaus,
48th St. Collective,
The Last Poets,
Little Man,
Shoche,
Rod Modell,
Spandau Ballet,
Roxy Music,
Black Moon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bad Manners,
The Star Department,
John Foxx,
Lou Christie,
Bang On A Can,
Blake Baxter,
The Walker Brothers,
Hashim,
Ten City,
Roger Hodgson,
Jawbox,
Intrusion,
Buzzcocks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Throbbing Gristle,
Warren Ellis,
Das Ding,
Harry Pussy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.