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 Liechtenstein and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 güiro 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 Whodini to the grime 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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
The Misunderstood,
Althea and Donna,
Don Cherry,
Vainqueur,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sixth Finger,
The Invisible,
Minny Pops,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Franke,
Susan Cadogan,
John Cale,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sugar Minott,
Fatback Band,
Sandy B,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Mojo Men,
Easy Going,
Organ,
Lee Hazlewood,
Albert Ayler,
Shoche,
Brothers Johnson,
Hashim,
Blake Baxter,
The Index,
The Leaves,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sun Ra,
Magazine,
Nils Olav,
Crispian St. Peters,
Deakin,
Television,
Scan 7,
The Martian,
Liliput,
John Holt,
Surgeon,
Dawn Penn,
Kurtis Blow,
The Last Poets,
The Durutti Column,
Matthew Halsall,
Flipper,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Beau Brummels,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Carl Craig,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Music Machine,
Robert Hood,
Altered Images,
Leonard Cohen,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Joe Finger,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.