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 Venezuela and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Stetsasonic to the crunk 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio 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 mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Qualms,
Rod Modell,
Khruangbin,
These Immortal Souls,
Delta 5,
Yaz,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ludus,
Scion,
H. Thieme,
Arcadia,
Joyce Sims,
Letta Mbulu,
Crispy Ambulance,
Main Source,
The Toasters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Thee Headcoats,
Tubeway Army,
The Slackers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bad Manners,
Johnny Clarke,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Anakelly,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
KRS-One,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joensuu 1685,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Blackbyrds,
Slave,
Sister Nancy,
Half Japanese,
Neil Young,
Stockholm Monsters,
Blancmange,
The Doors,
AZ,
Prince Buster,
F. McDonald,
Shuggie Otis,
Liliput,
Monks,
Urselle,
Cal Tjader,
Neu!,
Theoretical Girls,
Chris Corsano,
Amon Düül,
Dawn Penn,
Trumans Water,
Depeche Mode,
Unrelated Segments,
The Index,
Q65,
the Soft Cell,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.