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 Cyprus and from Spokane.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 organ 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 Henry Cow to the electroclash 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Fear,
Swans,
Black Pus,
Banda Bassotti,
The Searchers,
The New Christs,
Jeff Lynne,
Bush Tetras,
Zapp,
Gregory Isaacs,
H. Thieme,
Cymande,
Camberwell Now,
The Doors,
Make Up,
The Last Poets,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eli Mardock,
Colin Newman,
The Fire Engines,
Amon Düül II,
Eric Copeland,
The Mummies,
Soulsonic Force,
Joensuu 1685,
Radiohead,
Siglo XX,
The Selecter,
The Velvet Underground,
Goldenarms,
Metal Thangz,
Connie Case,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Maleditus Sound,
B.T. Express,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Robert Görl,
Terry Callier,
Von Mondo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Index,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Supertramp,
The Fall,
Basic Channel,
John Holt,
Wire,
Bill Near,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Zero Boys,
The Red Krayola,
Das Ding,
Deakin,
Animal Collective,
Chris & Cosey,
The Divine Comedy,
Jawbox,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Vogues,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.