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 Bolivia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Woodstock.
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 mellotron 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 Bobby Womack to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Newcleus,
The Moleskins,
Max Romeo,
Marc Almond,
The American Breed,
Fad Gadget,
Rod Modell,
Eden Ahbez,
Barbara Tucker,
Skarface,
Das Ding,
Black Bananas,
Bobby Sherman,
Crooked Eye,
The Count Five,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Radio Birdman,
The Remains,
Minutemen,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bill Near,
Jacob Miller,
Kenny Larkin,
The Index,
Ice-T,
Bobby Byrd,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Detroit Cobras,
Massinfluence,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Quantec,
The Star Department,
Desert Stars,
The Barracudas,
The Evens,
John Lydon,
Dawn Penn,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
New Order,
Quando Quango,
Supertramp,
DJ Style,
U.S. Maple,
The Gladiators,
Dave Gahan,
Unwound,
The Pop Group,
Bad Manners,
Barrington Levy,
Rites of Spring,
Gong,
Simply Red,
Johnny Clarke,
Sonic Youth,
Eli Mardock,
Flash Fearless,
Unrelated Segments,
Graham Central Station,
John Foxx,
Danielle Patucci,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.