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 Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 A Certain Ratio to the punk 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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tommy Roe,
Kevin Saunderson,
Monolake,
Sun City Girls,
Easy Going,
Bobby Womack,
the Germs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Quando Quango,
Saccharine Trust,
B.T. Express,
Tubeway Army,
Maurizio,
Motorama,
Neil Young,
Q65,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lucky Dragons,
Bluetip,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Saints,
Bill Wells,
The Slackers,
Public Enemy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Angry Samoans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Porter Ricks,
Sällskapet,
Schoolly D,
Deakin,
Youth Brigade,
Whodini,
Slave,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pantaleimon,
The Fugs,
The Invisible,
Altered Images,
Tom Boy,
Mad Mike,
Royal Trux,
Henry Cow,
Lalo Schifrin,
Electric Prunes,
Drexciya,
The Raincoats,
Fela Kuti,
Joyce Sims,
Alice Coltrane,
The Black Dice,
Sam Rivers,
Laurel Aitken,
The Blues Magoos,
Model 500,
Deadbeat,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.