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 Papua New Guinea and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Royal Family And The Poor to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter & Gordon 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Qualms,
Howard Jones,
Severed Heads,
The Last Poets,
The United States of America,
Eli Mardock,
Gang of Four,
Fatback Band,
Vainqueur,
Crispy Ambulance,
Joy Division,
Stereo Dub,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Leonard Cohen,
Ponytail,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Matthew Halsall,
Sun City Girls,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Swans,
Maurizio,
The Saints,
The Alarm Clocks,
Y Pants,
Schoolly D,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fugazi,
Al Stewart,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Jandek,
Hasil Adkins,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nico,
Unwound,
The Shadows of Knight,
Outsiders,
Underground Resistance,
Duran Duran,
Alison Limerick,
DNA,
The Human League,
Surgeon,
Throbbing Gristle,
Youth Brigade,
The Sonics,
The Smoke,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Heaven 17,
Popol Vuh,
Crash Course in Science,
Freddie Wadling,
Gil Scott Heron,
Arcadia,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Minny Pops,
The Fire Engines,
ABBA,
Cal Tjader,
Fear,
New York Dolls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers.
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.