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 East Timor and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 spring reverb 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 Sun Ra Arkestra to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jandek,
The Toasters,
Henry Cow,
Tres Demented,
the Soft Cell,
The Tremeloes,
Roger Hodgson,
The Slits,
The Divine Comedy,
Terry Callier,
Marmalade,
Malaria!,
Sex Pistols,
Crooked Eye,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Seeds,
Kayak,
Echospace,
Toni Rubio,
Radiopuhelimet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Oblivians,
T.S.O.L.,
Patti Smith,
Crash Course in Science,
Cybotron,
Section 25,
Smog,
Spandau Ballet,
The Remains,
Bluetip,
Little Man,
Theoretical Girls,
Gang of Four,
Thee Headcoats,
Warsaw,
Accadde A,
Ultimate Spinach,
Man Eating Sloth,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
X-Ray Spex,
Barbara Tucker,
Bobby Sherman,
Jerry's Kids,
The Black Dice,
Icehouse,
Erykah Badu,
Shuggie Otis,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
PIL,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Clear Light,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lou Christie,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Qualms,
Country Teasers,
Audionom,
Tears for Fears,
The Sonics,
Franke,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bill Wells,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.