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 Gambia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Minutemen to the dance 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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
the Slits,
The Slackers,
Gang Starr,
Reagan Youth,
Hoover,
The Star Department,
Cameo,
Rapeman,
Rufus Thomas,
Royal Trux,
Toni Rubio,
The Shadows of Knight,
Shuggie Otis,
Soft Cell,
Chris Corsano,
Robert Hood,
Ornette Coleman,
Howard Jones,
Aswad,
Davy DMX,
Audionom,
Accadde A,
Second Layer,
Pere Ubu,
The Fire Engines,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Techniques,
Maurizio,
Procol Harum,
ABC,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Animal Collective,
Spandau Ballet,
The Monks,
Minny Pops,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Selecter,
Camouflage,
Crime,
The Associates,
D'Angelo,
Flash Fearless,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cheater Slicks,
Malaria!,
The Angels of Light,
Joe Finger,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Standells,
The Wake,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sexual Harrassment,
A Certain Ratio,
Jeff Lynne,
Slave,
Stiv Bators,
Magazine,
Godley & Creme,
Tropical Tobacco,
U.S. Maple,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.