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 El Salvador and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Soul Sonic Force to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monochrome Set,
Shoche,
Siglo XX,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Black Dice,
Amon Düül,
Lou Reed,
World's Most,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dead Boys,
Index,
Michelle Simonal,
Radiohead,
The Busters,
Neil Young,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Spandau Ballet,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gong,
the Germs,
Marmalade,
Amon Düül II,
Public Image Ltd.,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Swans,
Roger Hodgson,
Arcadia,
Stetsasonic,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Frankie Knuckles,
Aural Exciters,
Scratch Acid,
Adolescents,
Jerry's Kids,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eric Copeland,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Organ,
The Angels of Light,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Banda Bassotti,
Hoover,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Franke,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Babytalk,
Simply Red,
Magazine,
Pussy Galore,
Neu!,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Suicide,
The Birthday Party,
Das Ding,
This Heat,
Negative Approach,
Glenn Branca,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wolf Eyes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eden Ahbez,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.