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 Vanuatu and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Newcleus 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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
The Star Department,
Todd Rundgren,
Desert Stars,
Hot Snakes,
Crooked Eye,
Ultimate Spinach,
New York Dolls,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pierre Henry,
Scan 7,
Sex Pistols,
Radiohead,
The Knickerbockers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rosa Yemen,
Banda Bassotti,
The Buckinghams,
Derrick May,
The Victims,
China Crisis,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Zeros,
Don Cherry,
Pharoah Sanders,
Smog,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
David Axelrod,
Nirvana,
The Saints,
Aaron Thompson,
Janne Schatter,
Ice-T,
The Mummies,
The Birthday Party,
Monks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jacques Brel,
A Certain Ratio,
Hasil Adkins,
Howard Jones,
Buzzcocks,
Iggy Pop,
The Mojo Men,
T. Rex,
Andrew Hill,
Prince Buster,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kenny Larkin,
Flamin' Groovies,
kango's stein massive,
Tim Buckley,
Faust,
DJ Sneak,
The Black Dice,
The Index,
The Cramps,
Cal Tjader,
Lightning Bolt,
Byron Stingily,
One Last Wish,
JFA,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.