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 Guinea-Bissau and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Victims. All the underground hits.
All Quando Quango tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Davy DMX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Rosa Yemen,
AZ,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Brass Construction,
The Slits,
Jeff Mills,
Bobby Womack,
Erasure,
Gong,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Soft Machine,
Gang Starr,
Intrusion,
John Holt,
OOIOO,
Pussy Galore,
The Gap Band,
Popol Vuh,
Dark Day,
Jandek,
Godley & Creme,
Oneida,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Scan 7,
The Music Machine,
Slave,
Faust,
Rekid,
The Gories,
Freddie Wadling,
June Days,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lightning Bolt,
Ten City,
Mars,
Sun City Girls,
KRS-One,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Althea and Donna,
Warsaw,
Charles Mingus,
H. Thieme,
The Buckinghams,
Morten Harket,
Howard Jones,
Infiniti,
FM Einheit,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Make Up,
Terry Callier,
Amon Düül II,
The Tremeloes,
F. McDonald,
Shoche,
Minny Pops,
Wasted Youth,
Henry Cow,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.