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 Tunisia and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 theremin 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 Easy Going to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Normal 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barbara Tucker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Niagra,
Sex Pistols,
The Real Kids,
Althea and Donna,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Das Ding,
The Fortunes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dead Boys,
kango's stein massive,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Piero Umiliani,
Pantaleimon,
The Busters,
Outsiders,
MC5,
Lindisfarne,
Janne Schatter,
Alice Coltrane,
Dark Day,
Soft Cell,
The Five Americans,
LL Cool J,
Marc Almond,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Shuggie Otis,
Wally Richardson,
Mission of Burma,
Radio Birdman,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Unwound,
Lou Christie,
Terry Callier,
48th St. Collective,
Symarip,
Warsaw,
DNA,
Unrelated Segments,
Skriet,
Rites of Spring,
The Litter,
Derrick May,
The Birthday Party,
Can,
Supertramp,
Quando Quango,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Blackbyrds,
Severed Heads,
Infiniti,
Prince Buster,
Dennis Brown,
Essential Logic,
the Sonics,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jimmy McGriff,
Black Sheep,
Johnny Clarke,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.