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 Turkey and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Moby Grape to the crunk 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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Ten City,
Slave,
Deadbeat,
Man Parrish,
Archie Shepp,
Charles Mingus,
The Seeds,
Franke,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Cure,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Busters,
Althea and Donna,
The Cowsills,
Sister Nancy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Electric Prunes,
The Blackbyrds,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Pretty Things,
X-Ray Spex,
Quando Quango,
The Blues Magoos,
The Monochrome Set,
AZ,
the Normal,
The Saints,
Blake Baxter,
The Kinks,
Arthur Verocai,
Aloha Tigers,
Nirvana,
KRS-One,
Accadde A,
Jesper Dahlback,
Y Pants,
Sexual Harrassment,
Porter Ricks,
Stereo Dub,
Tommy Roe,
The Buckinghams,
Bang On A Can,
Gang Starr,
Colin Newman,
Circle Jerks,
The Neon Judgement,
Marmalade,
Thompson Twins,
Theoretical Girls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Avey Tare,
Babytalk,
Amon Düül,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bill Near,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.