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 Sri Lanka and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Calgary and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gang Gang Dance to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scrapy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiopuhelimet,
X-102,
Godley & Creme,
The New Christs,
Bauhaus,
Mad Mike,
Urselle,
Pantaleimon,
Camouflage,
Quantec,
Jesper Dahlback,
Tommy Roe,
Malaria!,
Funky Four + One,
Brand Nubian,
John Foxx,
T. Rex,
Minutemen,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Brick,
The Techniques,
The Kinks,
Bang On A Can,
Trumans Water,
Curtis Mayfield,
Schoolly D,
Erykah Badu,
Kenny Larkin,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Faraquet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Accadde A,
Joyce Sims,
The Pretty Things,
Soul Sonic Force,
Yaz,
Deakin,
June of 44,
Quadrant,
David Bowie,
The Music Machine,
The Moody Blues,
The Last Poets,
Cymande,
China Crisis,
The Doobie Brothers,
Animal Collective,
Mary Jane Girls,
Spandau Ballet,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gang of Four,
Public Enemy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eve St. Jones,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Tremeloes,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Spoonie Gee,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cybotron,
Boogie Down Productions,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo.
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.