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 Equatorial Guinea and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mexico City.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sonics to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
David Bowie,
Silicon Teens,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Tremeloes,
Hasil Adkins,
UT,
Warren Ellis,
Talk Talk,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jawbox,
Liliput,
The Residents,
Jerry's Kids,
Chris Corsano,
Mission of Burma,
Television,
Fatback Band,
Bush Tetras,
Tomorrow,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Duran Duran,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Toni Rubio,
This Heat,
The Raincoats,
Fela Kuti,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Matthew Halsall,
Blake Baxter,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kerri Chandler,
Eric B and Rakim,
Faraquet,
Underground Resistance,
Quantec,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Don Cherry,
Slick Rick,
Model 500,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Gories,
Ornette Coleman,
Con Funk Shun,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gichy Dan,
Country Teasers,
Saccharine Trust,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nation of Ulysses,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Remains,
Pylon,
Q65,
Wasted Youth,
Cameo,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.