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 Vanuatu and from Taipei.
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 New York and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Hot Snakes to the dance 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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Wings,
Bob Dylan,
Deepchord,
Franke,
Lalann,
Radio Birdman,
Absolute Body Control,
The Modern Lovers,
Suburban Knight,
Marshall Jefferson,
Newcleus,
Nico,
Todd Rundgren,
Mark Hollis,
The Happenings,
Ponytail,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pantaleimon,
The Pop Group,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Graham Central Station,
The Golliwogs,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Pretty Things,
Hot Snakes,
Duran Duran,
JFA,
Rakim,
F. McDonald,
The Litter,
Mandrill,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lou Christie,
The Slits,
The Wake,
Howard Jones,
Panda Bear,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Human League,
Darondo,
Basic Channel,
E-Dancer,
Rod Modell,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Can,
The Mojo Men,
Inner City,
Infiniti,
These Immortal Souls,
Fatback Band,
The Standells,
Bronski Beat,
The Saints,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gregory Isaacs,
ABC,
Cybotron,
Goldenarms,
Amazonics,
Nick Fraelich,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.