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 Oman 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Columbus.
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 güiro 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 The Flesh Eaters to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Kool Moe Dee. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
Mo-Dettes,
Janne Schatter,
Jacques Brel,
The Fortunes,
Eric Copeland,
Harry Pussy,
Banda Bassotti,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Trojans,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Adolescents,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Agitation Free,
Crime,
Motorama,
Cluster,
The Young Rascals,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bobby Byrd,
Fluxion,
Guru Guru,
Pylon,
Danielle Patucci,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fugazi,
Camouflage,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Selecter,
Magma,
Eve St. Jones,
Absolute Body Control,
Eli Mardock,
Mantronix,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Music Machine,
The Black Dice,
Cal Tjader,
Cecil Taylor,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ultra Naté,
Newcleus,
David McCallum,
Dave Gahan,
In Retrospect,
Man Eating Sloth,
Index,
Sixth Finger,
Bill Near,
Alice Coltrane,
Cybotron,
Tom Boy,
The Seeds,
DJ Sneak,
Porter Ricks,
Peter & Gordon,
Roger Hodgson,
Q65,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.