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 Bahamas and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 David Axelrod to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dave Gahan,
Carl Craig,
Ice-T,
Drive Like Jehu,
Dual Sessions,
Skaos,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gang of Four,
The Residents,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Supertramp,
The Leaves,
Robert Hood,
The Neon Judgement,
Duran Duran,
The Misunderstood,
Marc Almond,
Flash Fearless,
The Divine Comedy,
Rosa Yemen,
Hot Snakes,
Los Fastidios,
Girls At Our Best!,
Y Pants,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bad Manners,
Eddi Front,
The Index,
Glenn Branca,
Arcadia,
Country Teasers,
Morten Harket,
Robert Görl,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Vogues,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Deakin,
The Five Americans,
Simply Red,
Junior Murvin,
Swell Maps,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Davy DMX,
The Black Dice,
Silicon Teens,
Organ,
New York Dolls,
Stereo Dub,
Traffic Nightmare,
Avey Tare,
Negative Approach,
Monks,
Sparks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Franke,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
John Lydon,
Oblivians,
The Dave Clark Five,
Joy Division,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.