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 Kosovo and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 sitar 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 Roy Ayers to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths 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 '50s 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 Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Soul II Soul,
Cheater Slicks,
Rotary Connection,
Stereo Dub,
the Normal,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nils Olav,
The Smiths,
L. Decosne,
The Moody Blues,
Nas,
Surgeon,
Dark Day,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Martian,
The Five Americans,
Boredoms,
Warren Ellis,
The Real Kids,
The Divine Comedy,
Vladislav Delay,
The Toasters,
Royal Trux,
Peter and Kerry,
Jacob Miller,
Goldenarms,
Arthur Verocai,
The Residents,
Suburban Knight,
Terry Callier,
Terrestrial Tones,
Drexciya,
Eric B and Rakim,
Alphaville,
The Techniques,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sarah Menescal,
Fear,
In Retrospect,
Funkadelic,
Sight & Sound,
Smog,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Shadows of Knight,
Piero Umiliani,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bauhaus,
Godley & Creme,
Panda Bear,
Clear Light,
Bang On A Can,
Marine Girls,
Altered Images,
Symarip,
The Monochrome Set,
The Knickerbockers,
Andrew Hill,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.