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 Yemen and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and New York.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the funk 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 Radiohead. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
James White and The Blacks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
La Düsseldorf,
Crooked Eye,
Tears for Fears,
Prince Buster,
Newcleus,
Graham Central Station,
Can,
Agent Orange,
MDC,
The Knickerbockers,
Country Teasers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pere Ubu,
DJ Sneak,
Leonard Cohen,
Pagans,
Skriet,
Suicide,
MC5,
the Germs,
the Human League,
Lalann,
Little Man,
Roger Hodgson,
Maurizio,
Underground Resistance,
June Days,
Scientists,
Al Stewart,
Minutemen,
Ludus,
Bauhaus,
Connie Case,
Bob Dylan,
Althea and Donna,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Saccharine Trust,
The Gladiators,
A Certain Ratio,
Angry Samoans,
Brothers Johnson,
Duran Duran,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lee Hazlewood,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lucky Dragons,
Marvin Gaye,
the Sonics,
Crispian St. Peters,
Archie Shepp,
Mad Mike,
Soft Machine,
Clear Light,
The Fire Engines,
Echospace,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.