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 Syria and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 La Düsseldorf to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
Can,
Pere Ubu,
Mission of Burma,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sparks,
Dark Day,
Au Pairs,
Chris Corsano,
Procol Harum,
Aloha Tigers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Standells,
the Normal,
Arthur Verocai,
Letta Mbulu,
Ultimate Spinach,
Infiniti,
Tom Boy,
June of 44,
Max Romeo,
The Blackbyrds,
Pole,
The Fuzztones,
Eddi Front,
Tubeway Army,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bluetip,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mandrill,
The Monks,
Khruangbin,
Pagans,
Nico,
Skaos,
Easy Going,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Stiv Bators,
The Cowsills,
Harmonia,
Intrusion,
The Zeros,
Bob Dylan,
Josef K,
The Move,
Prince Buster,
Don Cherry,
Howard Jones,
Donald Byrd,
Roger Hodgson,
Eric Copeland,
Swans,
Cecil Taylor,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Techniques,
Ohio Players,
X-101,
Amazonics,
Nirvana,
Talk Talk,
Black Pus,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.