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 Angola and from Columbus.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 arpeggiator 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 Saints to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Association. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Scratch Acid,
Cybotron,
The Fortunes,
Mad Mike,
New York Dolls,
Mo-Dettes,
Jeff Lynne,
The Victims,
Motorama,
Cameo,
Graham Central Station,
Ludus,
Alice Coltrane,
Roxy Music,
Sister Nancy,
Sun City Girls,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Alarm Clocks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Crispian St. Peters,
Minor Threat,
F. McDonald,
Hoover,
Country Teasers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sam Rivers,
Bronski Beat,
The Vogues,
Camberwell Now,
Dennis Brown,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bill Near,
Marshall Jefferson,
Interpol,
kango's stein massive,
Rakim,
the Sonics,
Tommy Roe,
Neu!,
KRS-One,
Negative Approach,
UT,
Avey Tare,
Theoretical Girls,
Kaleidoscope,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
PIL,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fatback Band,
Scan 7,
8 Eyed Spy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bad Manners,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Section 25,
The Golliwogs,
Johnny Clarke,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.