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 Chile and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 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 Kerrie Biddell to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
Dorothy Ashby,
Aural Exciters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Minnie Riperton,
The Victims,
Liliput,
Supertramp,
Dead Boys,
Thompson Twins,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Subhumans,
U.S. Maple,
Cybotron,
Ronnie Foster,
Dennis Brown,
Brand Nubian,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Toni Rubio,
Y Pants,
John Coltrane,
Jimmy McGriff,
Traffic Nightmare,
Amon Düül II,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tomorrow,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Bar-Kays,
The Dirtbombs,
The Angels of Light,
David Bowie,
Crispian St. Peters,
Soft Machine,
Barclay James Harvest,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Quadrant,
Lucky Dragons,
L. Decosne,
Young Marble Giants,
Kaleidoscope,
Depeche Mode,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lalann,
The Names,
Rites of Spring,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Funkadelic,
Judy Mowatt,
Brass Construction,
Grauzone,
Yusef Lateef,
The Monks,
Sight & Sound,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Anthony Braxton,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lindisfarne,
The Saints,
The Cure,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.