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 Congo and from Spokane.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Talk Talk to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Interpol,
Cecil Taylor,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Godley & Creme,
Prince Buster,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Durutti Column,
Kenny Larkin,
Skarface,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Cure,
Lightning Bolt,
Spandau Ballet,
Lou Christie,
Moss Icon,
Black Bananas,
Average White Band,
Tommy Roe,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Eurythmics,
DJ Sneak,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Tres Demented,
OOIOO,
Theoretical Girls,
the Soft Cell,
The Gun Club,
Arab on Radar,
Barry Ungar,
Swans,
Talk Talk,
Alice Coltrane,
Loose Ends,
The Mojo Men,
MC5,
Erykah Badu,
Tomorrow,
Lou Reed,
Peter & Gordon,
Stiv Bators,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Silicon Teens,
Boz Scaggs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Mummies,
Stetsasonic,
Arcadia,
The Black Dice,
Morten Harket,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pagans,
The Gladiators,
Fat Boys,
Royal Trux,
Pylon,
Supertramp,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Crispian St. Peters,
Q65,
The Stooges,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.