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 Tuvalu and from Delhi.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Jakarta.
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 synthesizer 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 Yaz to the dance 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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Popol Vuh,
Royal Trux,
Babytalk,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Japan,
Letta Mbulu,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Los Fastidios,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sonic Youth,
The Victims,
Oneida,
The Durutti Column,
The Saints,
Bob Dylan,
Marc Almond,
The Invisible,
The Cramps,
Kayak,
Vainqueur,
Gastr Del Sol,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sam Rivers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
These Immortal Souls,
Rufus Thomas,
Connie Case,
The Neon Judgement,
Animal Collective,
Circle Jerks,
Mark Hollis,
Jeru the Damaja,
Minutemen,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jacob Miller,
Susan Cadogan,
Jerry Gold Smith,
David Axelrod,
Wings,
Michelle Simonal,
The Smiths,
Jacques Brel,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Dawn Penn,
Jeff Mills,
Ice-T,
Sällskapet,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lightning Bolt,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Angry Samoans,
Agitation Free,
Tubeway Army,
Peter & Gordon,
Chrome,
Mission of Burma,
Aloha Tigers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Names,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.