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 East Timor and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Avey Tare to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
Wasted Youth,
Skarface,
E-Dancer,
Blancmange,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pylon,
The Trojans,
Supertramp,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fear,
Joyce Sims,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Cowsills,
Arab on Radar,
The Associates,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Stereo Dub,
The Mummies,
A Certain Ratio,
Khruangbin,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scion,
Kenny Larkin,
Pere Ubu,
Rites of Spring,
Sandy B,
Johnny Osbourne,
Joey Negro,
Accadde A,
Gil Scott Heron,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Blues Magoos,
UT,
Gang Starr,
Mandrill,
Spandau Ballet,
the Swans,
Television Personalities,
The Zeros,
Arcadia,
John Coltrane,
Toni Rubio,
B.T. Express,
Schoolly D,
Ken Boothe,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
David Axelrod,
Scan 7,
This Heat,
Shuggie Otis,
Essential Logic,
One Last Wish,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ohio Players,
Heaven 17,
Icehouse,
Todd Rundgren,
Ultra Naté,
Wally Richardson,
Barrington Levy,
Pantytec,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman.
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.