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 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the grunge 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 The Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Graham Central Station,
One Last Wish,
The Music Machine,
Sly & The Family Stone,
48th St. Collective,
The Smiths,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Sun Ra,
Delta 5,
Fugazi,
Oneida,
Royal Trux,
Leonard Cohen,
Minnie Riperton,
Faust,
KRS-One,
Maurizio,
Skaos,
Youth Brigade,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Shadows of Knight,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Wolf Eyes,
Dead Boys,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Arthur Verocai,
Eden Ahbez,
The Durutti Column,
Popol Vuh,
FM Einheit,
Neil Young,
Drexciya,
The Moleskins,
The Smoke,
The Birthday Party,
Altered Images,
Rakim,
Public Enemy,
Audionom,
La Düsseldorf,
ABC,
Deadbeat,
Moebius,
Robert Wyatt,
New Order,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Zero Boys,
Wasted Youth,
Livin' Joy,
Grey Daturas,
Sister Nancy,
Isaac Hayes,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
B.T. Express,
Spandau Ballet,
Harpers Bizarre,
Intrusion,
Severed Heads,
Deakin,
David Axelrod,
Clear Light,
John Lydon,
The Associates,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.