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 New Zealand and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
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 Rosa Yemen to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
Magazine,
Max Romeo,
LL Cool J,
Gang Green,
Hot Snakes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Dark Day,
David McCallum,
Y Pants,
Albert Ayler,
The Dirtbombs,
Livin' Joy,
Bill Wells,
Unwound,
DJ Sneak,
The Cramps,
June of 44,
Chrome,
The Black Dice,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Neu!,
Eurythmics,
Lyres,
ABBA,
The Busters,
Traffic Nightmare,
Camberwell Now,
Byron Stingily,
Monks,
Brick,
Khruangbin,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Donny Hathaway,
Angry Samoans,
T.S.O.L.,
John Cale,
Visage,
Nils Olav,
Groovy Waters,
Icehouse,
the Bar-Kays,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Deadbeat,
Erasure,
Neil Young,
Ornette Coleman,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
DNA,
Heaven 17,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bootsy Collins,
Scientists,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Move,
Pole,
Rites of Spring,
Kool Moe Dee,
Johnny Clarke,
New York Dolls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Angels of Light,
Dawn Penn,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.