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 Mozambique and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Man Parrish to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Delta 5,
Saccharine Trust,
The Smoke,
Pharoah Sanders,
Faraquet,
Mark Hollis,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Oblivians,
Quadrant,
The Evens,
Whodini,
Severed Heads,
Quantec,
48th St. Collective,
Joyce Sims,
PIL,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Grauzone,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Maleditus Sound,
Cymande,
Dead Boys,
Derrick May,
Bauhaus,
L. Decosne,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Frankie Knuckles,
Niagra,
Flipper,
the Fania All-Stars,
Isaac Hayes,
Circle Jerks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Star Department,
Rotary Connection,
Mandrill,
Tomorrow,
Accadde A,
Fad Gadget,
Warren Ellis,
Man Parrish,
AZ,
Lou Christie,
Tropical Tobacco,
Junior Murvin,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Anthony Braxton,
Lebanon Hanover,
Steve Hackett,
Reagan Youth,
The Raincoats,
Todd Terry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Blake Baxter,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Germs,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.