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 Czech Republic and from Taipei.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 H. Thieme to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
The Smiths,
The Monks,
This Heat,
R.M.O.,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Smog,
The Invisible,
OOIOO,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Funkadelic,
Alton Ellis,
The Angels of Light,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Tremeloes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Y Pants,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Durutti Column,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Trumans Water,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Wake,
Rekid,
Young Marble Giants,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sister Nancy,
Todd Terry,
Robert Wyatt,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Clear Light,
Don Cherry,
Rapeman,
Inner City,
Bluetip,
The Dave Clark Five,
Agitation Free,
Livin' Joy,
The Human League,
T. Rex,
Jimmy McGriff,
Laurel Aitken,
EPMD,
Brand Nubian,
The Gap Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jacob Miller,
The Gladiators,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Iggy Pop,
Arab on Radar,
Cal Tjader,
Negative Approach,
Pierre Henry,
The Red Krayola,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Knickerbockers,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.