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 Taiwan and from Mexico City.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Blackbyrds to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Model 500,
Moebius,
Black Moon,
Bang On A Can,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sex Pistols,
Flipper,
The Black Dice,
Matthew Bourne,
Jesper Dahlback,
Swell Maps,
Bizarre Inc.,
Radiopuhelimet,
Don Cherry,
Scratch Acid,
Robert Hood,
David Bowie,
Gastr Del Sol,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Evens,
The Remains,
Anakelly,
June Days,
Underground Resistance,
Bootsy Collins,
Ultimate Spinach,
Duran Duran,
Derrick May,
Agent Orange,
Steve Hackett,
Yellowson,
Tubeway Army,
Q65,
The Index,
Stiv Bators,
The Mojo Men,
Big Daddy Kane,
Shuggie Otis,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Pylon,
Second Layer,
K-Klass,
The Trojans,
Cameo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Swans,
Arab on Radar,
Jeff Mills,
La Düsseldorf,
Smog,
The Buckinghams,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Cramps,
Warsaw,
The Saints,
Cymande,
Jimmy McGriff,
Glenn Branca,
U.S. Maple,
The Alarm Clocks,
In Retrospect,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.