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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Woodstock and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Donald Fagen 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 Nation of Ulysses to the grunge 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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New Age Steppers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Tommy Roe,
The Searchers,
Davy DMX,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Tremeloes,
The Modern Lovers,
The Victims,
Radiopuhelimet,
John Holt,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dark Day,
Max Romeo,
Bang On A Can,
Piero Umiliani,
Boz Scaggs,
Sandy B,
Toni Rubio,
Pantaleimon,
ABBA,
Derrick May,
Pere Ubu,
Robert Hood,
World's Most,
Siglo XX,
The Detroit Cobras,
Boredoms,
Supertramp,
Reagan Youth,
David Bowie,
Bob Dylan,
Peter and Kerry,
Skriet,
Sex Pistols,
Roxy Music,
Pagans,
PIL,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Sound,
Jawbox,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jacques Brel,
The Golliwogs,
Procol Harum,
Aswad,
Jacob Miller,
John Cale,
The Divine Comedy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Judy Mowatt,
Goldenarms,
Pylon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pulsallama,
Minor Threat,
Sparks,
Porter Ricks,
X-102,
Lyres,
The Misunderstood,
Q and Not U,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.