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 Philippines and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 snare 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the grunge 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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
Tom Boy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mr. Review,
Howard Jones,
Letta Mbulu,
The Monochrome Set,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Duran Duran,
Scrapy,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Soft Cell,
Massinfluence,
Malaria!,
Accadde A,
Ludus,
D'Angelo,
Sarah Menescal,
Agent Orange,
The American Breed,
Dead Boys,
The Walker Brothers,
Crooked Eye,
Little Man,
Nirvana,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Red Krayola,
cv313,
New Age Steppers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bobby Sherman,
Tim Buckley,
The New Christs,
Metal Thangz,
Flash Fearless,
Scan 7,
Quadrant,
The Smiths,
Swell Maps,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Terrestrial Tones,
X-Ray Spex,
Swans,
Scott Walker,
Urselle,
Animal Collective,
New Order,
The Real Kids,
Ultimate Spinach,
Soft Machine,
Scratch Acid,
The Wake,
Man Eating Sloth,
Minny Pops,
Arcadia,
Barry Ungar,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.