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 Dominican Republic and from Spokane.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Minnie Riperton to the funk 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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dual Sessions 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 güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Groovy Waters,
Soft Cell,
Sex Pistols,
JFA,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Television,
Crime,
Roxette,
Minnie Riperton,
T.S.O.L.,
Brass Construction,
Unwound,
James White and The Blacks,
Donald Byrd,
Moebius,
Sarah Menescal,
Babytalk,
Lee Hazlewood,
Donny Hathaway,
Roxy Music,
Pantaleimon,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Human League,
Flash Fearless,
Ohio Players,
Whodini,
Toni Rubio,
Funky Four + One,
The Knickerbockers,
Schoolly D,
The Divine Comedy,
Royal Trux,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Skriet,
Barry Ungar,
Wasted Youth,
Maurizio,
Ituana,
Marc Almond,
Negative Approach,
E-Dancer,
Nico,
The Skatalites,
Gichy Dan,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
D'Angelo,
Trumans Water,
Scrapy,
Al Stewart,
Franke,
Excepter,
Thompson Twins,
Jacques Brel,
the Fania All-Stars,
Neu!,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Beau Brummels,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Cluster,
Average White Band,
Tears for Fears,
The Mojo Men,
Bad Manners,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.