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 Togo and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 spring reverb 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the funk 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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Heaven 17,
Gang Gang Dance,
Juan Atkins,
Byron Stingily,
Mantronix,
Y Pants,
Can,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stiv Bators,
Yaz,
Be Bop Deluxe,
John Cale,
Suicide,
Morten Harket,
Joe Finger,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Blues Magoos,
Reuben Wilson,
the Swans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Faust,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Electric Prunes,
A Certain Ratio,
Chris & Cosey,
Barclay James Harvest,
Curtis Mayfield,
Minutemen,
The Cosmic Jokers,
PIL,
The Fire Engines,
Quando Quango,
Yellowson,
the Germs,
Tubeway Army,
Ultra Naté,
Bush Tetras,
Radiohead,
Eli Mardock,
Scratch Acid,
Ponytail,
Niagra,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lyres,
F. McDonald,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Scan 7,
The Doors,
The Litter,
Roxette,
Albert Ayler,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Piero Umiliani,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Crooked Eye,
The Vogues,
Gabor Szabo,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.