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 Netherlands and from New York.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 theremin 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the techno 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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a E-Dancer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Angry Samoans,
Toni Rubio,
Pulsallama,
cv313,
Rakim,
Johnny Clarke,
Andrew Hill,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Dave Clark Five,
CMW,
Fugazi,
Johnny Osbourne,
In Retrospect,
Los Fastidios,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Slits,
Albert Ayler,
Marvin Gaye,
Popol Vuh,
Soul II Soul,
Agent Orange,
Traffic Nightmare,
New York Dolls,
The Gories,
Althea and Donna,
Sonny Sharrock,
Outsiders,
The Tremeloes,
Camouflage,
Buzzcocks,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Sonics,
The Litter,
Magazine,
Clear Light,
Crash Course in Science,
Matthew Bourne,
Jeff Mills,
Monolake,
Joe Finger,
Japan,
Gil Scott Heron,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pharoah Sanders,
La Düsseldorf,
Malaria!,
Little Man,
The Toasters,
Grauzone,
Eden Ahbez,
Matthew Halsall,
Colin Newman,
Brand Nubian,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Busters,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Durutti Column,
Steve Hackett,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.