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 Syria and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 oboe 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 Amazonics to the dance 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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blossom Toes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Boz Scaggs,
The Last Poets,
Hasil Adkins,
Rod Modell,
Urselle,
Gichy Dan,
The Doors,
The Golliwogs,
Country Teasers,
F. McDonald,
Fear,
The Motions,
Jerry's Kids,
The Zeros,
The Modern Lovers,
Audionom,
The Mojo Men,
Bang On A Can,
Circle Jerks,
the Sonics,
Pussy Galore,
Theoretical Girls,
Roxy Music,
Jacob Miller,
In Retrospect,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Martian,
Section 25,
Tom Boy,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sonic Youth,
cv313,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Monochrome Set,
Laurel Aitken,
Cybotron,
Mark Hollis,
The Monks,
Susan Cadogan,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Saints,
Radio Birdman,
DJ Style,
Dawn Penn,
the Soft Cell,
The Detroit Cobras,
Crooked Eye,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Wake,
Ken Boothe,
Brand Nubian,
The Happenings,
John Cale,
Graham Central Station,
The Names,
Qualms,
David Axelrod,
X-101,
Arcadia,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Dirtbombs,
Masters at Work,
Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson.
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.