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 San Marino and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Procol Harum to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Pole,
Rotary Connection,
Skriet,
The Zeros,
the Bar-Kays,
Bad Manners,
Buzzcocks,
The Sound,
Make Up,
The Gap Band,
Leonard Cohen,
The Litter,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Alison Limerick,
Sonic Youth,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Schoolly D,
Gerry Rafferty,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Index,
Zapp,
Pantytec,
H. Thieme,
Scott Walker,
Bluetip,
ABC,
Lower 48,
Johnny Osbourne,
Severed Heads,
Black Bananas,
Ultravox,
Pantaleimon,
The Last Poets,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Mummies,
A Certain Ratio,
Royal Trux,
Boredoms,
Livin' Joy,
Bauhaus,
Clear Light,
Lebanon Hanover,
DJ Style,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Vainqueur,
Maleditus Sound,
Swell Maps,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lyres,
Ossler,
Joe Finger,
One Last Wish,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Grass Roots,
The Real Kids,
Amazonics,
The Residents,
X-102,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.