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 Honduras and from Stockholm.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Electric Prunes to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 10cc 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sex Pistols,
Magazine,
Pylon,
Arab on Radar,
Dennis Brown,
Josef K,
Animal Collective,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lucky Dragons,
The Kinks,
Pantytec,
Porter Ricks,
Joe Smooth,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mad Mike,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jawbox,
Scion,
Eric B and Rakim,
Crooked Eye,
Bootsy Collins,
Erykah Badu,
a-ha,
Cal Tjader,
Tomorrow,
kango's stein massive,
Kas Product,
X-Ray Spex,
10cc,
Scrapy,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Yaz,
Q65,
Pussy Galore,
Adolescents,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tres Demented,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Fugazi,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Harmonia,
Nils Olav,
Radio Birdman,
Bob Dylan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Derrick Morgan,
Archie Shepp,
Soulsonic Force,
Juan Atkins,
Carl Craig,
The Dave Clark Five,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Martian,
Letta Mbulu,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Camberwell Now,
Flipper,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.