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 Vietnam and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Copenhagen.
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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Reagan Youth to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 DeepChord presents Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Max Romeo,
Half Japanese,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Slits,
Youth Brigade,
Hardrive,
Bobby Womack,
Ultra Naté,
The Blackbyrds,
Warsaw,
Pagans,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Peter and Kerry,
Marine Girls,
Brothers Johnson,
The Stooges,
Groovy Waters,
Underground Resistance,
Steve Hackett,
Josef K,
Pere Ubu,
Kenny Larkin,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mission of Burma,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Searchers,
Aaron Thompson,
Organ,
June of 44,
The Gladiators,
The Dirtbombs,
Eurythmics,
This Heat,
the Association,
Malaria!,
ABC,
Fela Kuti,
Niagra,
the Human League,
Gong,
Chris Corsano,
Cluster,
Angry Samoans,
Sonic Youth,
Tommy Roe,
Flipper,
The Victims,
Los Fastidios,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rhythm & Sound,
Scratch Acid,
Cameo,
Ten City,
Animal Collective,
Matthew Halsall,
Absolute Body Control,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Five Americans,
The Sonics,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Oneida,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.