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 Maldives and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Electric Light Orchestra to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lucky Dragons,
Kaleidoscope,
Pantaleimon,
Massinfluence,
Soulsonic Force,
The Dirtbombs,
Y Pants,
Agent Orange,
Ultra Naté,
Reagan Youth,
Sarah Menescal,
Cheater Slicks,
Fad Gadget,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ken Boothe,
The Leaves,
Bill Near,
Barry Ungar,
Bluetip,
Brand Nubian,
Cal Tjader,
The Black Dice,
Unwound,
Symarip,
John Lydon,
Todd Rundgren,
The Toasters,
The Happenings,
Amon Düül,
Stetsasonic,
In Retrospect,
The Remains,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Anthony Braxton,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Jacob Miller,
Arab on Radar,
Kenny Larkin,
John Foxx,
Zapp,
Joe Finger,
Pantytec,
Popol Vuh,
Nico,
Lindisfarne,
The Modern Lovers,
Quando Quango,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pussy Galore,
Matthew Halsall,
The Evens,
the Association,
Crispy Ambulance,
La Düsseldorf,
Davy DMX,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fort Wilson Riot,
K-Klass,
Duran Duran,
Marmalade,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.