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 Bolivia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Durutti Column to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Joensuu 1685 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Stockholm Monsters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bob Dylan,
Roger Hodgson,
Pantaleimon,
the Germs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Royal Trux,
Wally Richardson,
Visage,
The Dirtbombs,
Erasure,
Franke,
Deakin,
Duran Duran,
The Music Machine,
Gang Starr,
Crooked Eye,
Arthur Verocai,
Moss Icon,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Gun Club,
Technova,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Judy Mowatt,
Gastr Del Sol,
Brick,
June of 44,
Ronan,
Prince Buster,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Dave Clark Five,
Nico,
Drive Like Jehu,
Don Cherry,
ABBA,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
H. Thieme,
Eli Mardock,
Ornette Coleman,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Index,
Unwound,
Tom Boy,
The Black Dice,
T. Rex,
New York Dolls,
Banda Bassotti,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Scrapy,
Pulsallama,
Radiohead,
Johnny Osbourne,
Scan 7,
Bush Tetras,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.