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 Bhutan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Toasters to the grime 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 The Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All The Cowsills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yazoo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
Suicide,
The Misunderstood,
The Cramps,
The Dave Clark Five,
Theoretical Girls,
Rites of Spring,
The Neon Judgement,
Chris Corsano,
Byron Stingily,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Slits,
Bobby Womack,
Juan Atkins,
The Red Krayola,
Bill Wells,
Tears for Fears,
Bang On A Can,
T.S.O.L.,
Minnie Riperton,
AZ,
World's Most,
Leonard Cohen,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Carl Craig,
Sarah Menescal,
Lou Christie,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
In Retrospect,
Black Flag,
John Lydon,
Henry Cow,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ronan,
Eurythmics,
Sun Ra,
EPMD,
Supertramp,
Sonny Sharrock,
Joe Smooth,
Ossler,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Jacob Miller,
Thee Headcoats,
The Leaves,
Swans,
The Dirtbombs,
The Slackers,
ABBA,
H. Thieme,
John Cale,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Marmalade,
Darondo,
Aswad,
Grauzone,
The Kinks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.