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 India and from Paris.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drive Like Jehu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
Symarip,
Talk Talk,
John Holt,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Maurizio,
Soft Machine,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Five Americans,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lungfish,
Das Ding,
Man Eating Sloth,
Grauzone,
Altered Images,
Black Pus,
Theoretical Girls,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Sonics,
Tim Buckley,
Johnny Clarke,
Gil Scott Heron,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Cure,
Drexciya,
Oneida,
Bang On A Can,
Sly & The Family Stone,
John Coltrane,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kurtis Blow,
The Mojo Men,
Charles Mingus,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Von Mondo,
Severed Heads,
Dead Boys,
Quadrant,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Half Japanese,
Shoche,
Dual Sessions,
The Skatalites,
The Electric Prunes,
the Bar-Kays,
Tom Boy,
Scientists,
Slave,
Malaria!,
Vainqueur,
Newcleus,
Lee Hazlewood,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Funky Four + One,
Simply Red,
U.S. Maple,
Black Flag,
Minor Threat,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.