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 Dominican Republic and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
the Slits,
Joy Division,
Sam Rivers,
The Residents,
Kool Moe Dee,
Glenn Branca,
John Holt,
The Dirtbombs,
Dawn Penn,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Can,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Swans,
Gabor Szabo,
Rhythm & Sound,
K-Klass,
La Düsseldorf,
Youth Brigade,
Gastr Del Sol,
The New Christs,
Heaven 17,
Cheater Slicks,
UT,
EPMD,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
James White and The Blacks,
Deadbeat,
Ralphi Rosario,
Swell Maps,
The Evens,
Bobby Byrd,
Section 25,
The Trojans,
Cybotron,
The United States of America,
Skaos,
Desert Stars,
Dead Boys,
Nik Kershaw,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Slackers,
the Bar-Kays,
48th St. Collective,
The Divine Comedy,
Sparks,
Television Personalities,
Lyres,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marmalade,
Icehouse,
Gong,
The Stooges,
The Alarm Clocks,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Model 500,
Rotary Connection,
Howard Jones,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.