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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Country Teasers to the techno 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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks 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?
T.S.O.L.,
EPMD,
Gerry Rafferty,
Neil Young,
F. McDonald,
Suburban Knight,
Skaos,
Archie Shepp,
Marvin Gaye,
Alice Coltrane,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Blues Magoos,
Flipper,
a-ha,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Monolake,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Germs,
Sällskapet,
The Tremeloes,
Janne Schatter,
Icehouse,
K-Klass,
The Cramps,
Young Marble Giants,
Theoretical Girls,
James White and The Blacks,
The Moleskins,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
B.T. Express,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Black Flag,
Marmalade,
Organ,
Visage,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Prince Buster,
Soulsonic Force,
June Days,
Aloha Tigers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pagans,
Eric Dolphy,
Lou Reed,
Stiv Bators,
Sight & Sound,
Hardrive,
Joey Negro,
Sparks,
The Selecter,
Nick Fraelich,
Joensuu 1685,
Oneida,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sugar Minott,
OOIOO,
the Slits,
The Real Kids,
The Fortunes,
Wasted Youth,
Television, Television, Television, Television.
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.