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 Suriname 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Talk Talk to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mark Hollis 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier 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?
Cymande,
Avey Tare,
The Cramps,
Bluetip,
Wolf Eyes,
Freddie Wadling,
Zero Boys,
Neil Young,
Michelle Simonal,
James White and The Blacks,
Joy Division,
Aaron Thompson,
Susan Cadogan,
Boz Scaggs,
Lalo Schifrin,
Public Enemy,
The Wake,
Faust,
T. Rex,
Jerry Gold Smith,
K-Klass,
Basic Channel,
The Fortunes,
Don Cherry,
Eric Dolphy,
Chris & Cosey,
Faraquet,
Magma,
The Saints,
Eden Ahbez,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Soft Cell,
T.S.O.L.,
Oneida,
Goldenarms,
Supertramp,
Gabor Szabo,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thompson Twins,
The Pretty Things,
The Fuzztones,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Searchers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Beau Brummels,
DJ Style,
Sparks,
Sarah Menescal,
The Offenders,
The Birthday Party,
Gang of Four,
48th St. Collective,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Modern Lovers,
Patti Smith,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Excepter,
the Germs,
The Moleskins,
The Blackbyrds,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.