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 Croatia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ten City. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dual Sessions,
Black Flag,
Intrusion,
Barbara Tucker,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Aaron Thompson,
Cymande,
the Bar-Kays,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
LL Cool J,
Robert Görl,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Human League,
Idris Muhammad,
Bobby Womack,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lakeside,
Organ,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Tom Boy,
Dark Day,
The American Breed,
Yaz,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Curtis Mayfield,
Johnny Clarke,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Dirtbombs,
Fat Boys,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Smog,
Hoover,
Surgeon,
DJ Sneak,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bill Near,
The Seeds,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
La Düsseldorf,
A Certain Ratio,
The Skatalites,
Fugazi,
Eric Copeland,
Lee Hazlewood,
Avey Tare,
These Immortal Souls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Grey Daturas,
Eddi Front,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Little Man,
Rekid,
Agitation Free,
Eden Ahbez,
Laurel Aitken,
D'Angelo,
Shuggie Otis,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Hot Snakes,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.