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 Bhutan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 guitar 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 Alison Limerick 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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nick Fraelich,
The Young Rascals,
Japan,
The Dirtbombs,
Silicon Teens,
Marshall Jefferson,
Toni Rubio,
Kaleidoscope,
Swans,
The Fuzztones,
The Birthday Party,
Bootsy Collins,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rites of Spring,
Audionom,
Ice-T,
The Modern Lovers,
Subhumans,
The Golliwogs,
Hot Snakes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Minnie Riperton,
Andrew Hill,
The Gun Club,
Judy Mowatt,
Gong,
Moebius,
Joe Finger,
Severed Heads,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Quando Quango,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barry Ungar,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Visage,
Suburban Knight,
Grauzone,
John Coltrane,
Sugar Minott,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Moleskins,
Niagra,
The Walker Brothers,
Make Up,
48th St. Collective,
Eden Ahbez,
The Shadows of Knight,
Unwound,
China Crisis,
The Litter,
Soft Machine,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Infiniti,
The Black Dice,
Gerry Rafferty,
Marmalade,
Loose Ends,
Brass Construction,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.