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 Spain and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Index to the grunge 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Louis and Bebe Barron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Sight & Sound,
Cal Tjader,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joensuu 1685,
Roy Ayers,
Little Man,
Deepchord,
Sun City Girls,
Nico,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Camouflage,
The Standells,
Roxette,
Donald Byrd,
Bang On A Can,
The Detroit Cobras,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sarah Menescal,
John Foxx,
The Last Poets,
Dennis Brown,
Josef K,
Carl Craig,
Adolescents,
The Moleskins,
Deadbeat,
Letta Mbulu,
Visage,
Shuggie Otis,
The Blues Magoos,
Al Stewart,
FM Einheit,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kaleidoscope,
The Remains,
The Cramps,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Magazine,
Los Fastidios,
Spoonie Gee,
Severed Heads,
June of 44,
Eli Mardock,
Jeff Lynne,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gang Green,
Au Pairs,
Unwound,
The Velvet Underground,
Amazonics,
Eddi Front,
The Cowsills,
Chrome,
David Bowie,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Inner City,
Judy Mowatt,
The Victims,
Dead Boys,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.