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 Jordan 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Mark Hollis to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Intrusion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Pylon,
Matthew Bourne,
Terry Callier,
K-Klass,
KRS-One,
Cameo,
Bauhaus,
Pagans,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Selecter,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sällskapet,
CMW,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Durutti Column,
The Real Kids,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Khruangbin,
Crispy Ambulance,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Au Pairs,
The Velvet Underground,
Matthew Halsall,
Make Up,
Idris Muhammad,
Sam Rivers,
Davy DMX,
The Electric Prunes,
Cluster,
Little Man,
T.S.O.L.,
Suicide,
Shuggie Otis,
Funky Four + One,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Mandrill,
Johnny Clarke,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Flamin' Groovies,
June of 44,
The Blues Magoos,
New Age Steppers,
OOIOO,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dorothy Ashby,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mad Mike,
Wasted Youth,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Brand Nubian,
Thee Headcoats,
Youth Brigade,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Monks,
Skaos,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Sonics,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
E-Dancer,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.