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 Israel and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 rhodes 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 Yusef Lateef to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Rapeman,
Nirvana,
Stiv Bators,
Urselle,
Joe Smooth,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Average White Band,
The Velvet Underground,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Spoonie Gee,
Ituana,
Second Layer,
The Kinks,
Swell Maps,
Main Source,
Radio Birdman,
Oblivians,
Intrusion,
T.S.O.L.,
Circle Jerks,
D'Angelo,
The Selecter,
The Durutti Column,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lalann,
Quando Quango,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Black Flag,
Bobby Hutcherson,
John Cale,
Charles Mingus,
Surgeon,
Amon Düül,
Alison Limerick,
A Certain Ratio,
The Fortunes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Blackbyrds,
FM Einheit,
Laurel Aitken,
The Move,
Sex Pistols,
the Association,
Wolf Eyes,
The Five Americans,
Jacob Miller,
Gil Scott Heron,
Boredoms,
Judy Mowatt,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bad Manners,
Michelle Simonal,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bobby Byrd,
Clear Light,
Wire,
Talk Talk,
Flipper,
Symarip,
Joy Division,
Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover.
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.