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 South Sudan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Lou Reed 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 Buckinghams to the grime 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Parry Music,
Kayak,
Crooked Eye,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
UT,
Zapp,
James White and The Blacks,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Black Sheep,
The Trojans,
Agent Orange,
Essential Logic,
Yaz,
The Birthday Party,
cv313,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Judy Mowatt,
Cymande,
The Monks,
Loose Ends,
Fad Gadget,
Lungfish,
Q65,
Michelle Simonal,
Whodini,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jeff Lynne,
Sex Pistols,
Thee Headcoats,
The Smiths,
The Electric Prunes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Los Fastidios,
Susan Cadogan,
Severed Heads,
Soulsonic Force,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Fear,
the Sonics,
Nirvana,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Quantec,
Avey Tare,
Moby Grape,
Camberwell Now,
the Association,
AZ,
ABBA,
Connie Case,
Sällskapet,
Khruangbin,
The Stooges,
The Mummies,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Gories,
John Foxx,
Clear Light,
Agitation Free,
The Knickerbockers,
Marmalade,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.