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 Lebanon and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 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 The Cramps to the crunk 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 The Evens. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
The Barracudas,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kenny Larkin,
The Angels of Light,
the Human League,
Eve St. Jones,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Flash Fearless,
The Flesh Eaters,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Velvet Underground,
Rapeman,
The Monks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Royal Trux,
Fatback Band,
Susan Cadogan,
Yaz,
Scott Walker,
Interpol,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mars,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Seeds,
Robert Görl,
Jerry's Kids,
48th St. Collective,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Pretty Things,
Pierre Henry,
Camberwell Now,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Real Kids,
The Blues Magoos,
Glenn Branca,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Max Romeo,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gong,
Terry Callier,
The Offenders,
Maurizio,
Banda Bassotti,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Mad Mike,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Beau Brummels,
Zapp,
Pagans,
Moby Grape,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Letta Mbulu,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Martian,
Joe Finger,
Bauhaus,
Bill Near,
X-101,
Boz Scaggs,
KRS-One,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.