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 New Zealand 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Khruangbin to the grunge 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
The Martian,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Durutti Column,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Steve Hackett,
Suburban Knight,
Isaac Hayes,
Dead Boys,
Wasted Youth,
Motorama,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marc Almond,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Trumans Water,
Audionom,
The Fugs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Surgeon,
Cheater Slicks,
Tom Boy,
Harmonia,
The Offenders,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Music Machine,
Blancmange,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Yaz,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Monks,
Sonic Youth,
Absolute Body Control,
The Flesh Eaters,
Babytalk,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
10cc,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bobby Byrd,
The Human League,
John Lydon,
Stereo Dub,
Cymande,
Moebius,
Minny Pops,
Wire,
Delta 5,
Zapp,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
David McCallum,
Terry Callier,
Tears for Fears,
Scott Walker,
Pantytec,
The Selecter,
Aural Exciters,
The Gladiators,
Laurel Aitken,
Jeff Lynne,
The Five Americans,
The Smiths,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.