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 Cameroon and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and London.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Nils Olav to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Ronan,
Wally Richardson,
Max Romeo,
Nirvana,
Ultra Naté,
The Remains,
The Divine Comedy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sparks,
CMW,
The Associates,
the Normal,
The Monks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
John Cale,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Aswad,
The Gap Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kevin Saunderson,
Liliput,
Pantytec,
Gichy Dan,
Second Layer,
Livin' Joy,
E-Dancer,
The Electric Prunes,
Erasure,
Ultravox,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sexual Harrassment,
8 Eyed Spy,
Brand Nubian,
Hot Snakes,
Nick Fraelich,
DNA,
The Busters,
Glambeats Corp.,
Schoolly D,
Blossom Toes,
Charles Mingus,
Barrington Levy,
Glenn Branca,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bootsy Collins,
Royal Trux,
Sixth Finger,
Aloha Tigers,
Johnny Clarke,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Scan 7,
Gang Gang Dance,
Oneida,
Colin Newman,
Angry Samoans,
Spoonie Gee,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.