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 Ethiopia and from Hong Kong.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Urselle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tubeway Army,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Birthday Party,
The Moody Blues,
Johnny Clarke,
New Age Steppers,
Roxette,
Buzzcocks,
Sällskapet,
Ituana,
Absolute Body Control,
Fatback Band,
Laurel Aitken,
The Neon Judgement,
Neil Young,
Quadrant,
KRS-One,
H. Thieme,
Loose Ends,
Curtis Mayfield,
Andrew Hill,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Radiohead,
Oneida,
Jacques Brel,
Japan,
Minutemen,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Popol Vuh,
Harry Pussy,
Moebius,
Rufus Thomas,
The Happenings,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Magazine,
Glenn Branca,
Camberwell Now,
Robert Hood,
Saccharine Trust,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Camouflage,
Fat Boys,
X-101,
48th St. Collective,
Faraquet,
Sandy B,
Bang On A Can,
Underground Resistance,
Q65,
The Detroit Cobras,
The New Christs,
Don Cherry,
Desert Stars,
Nick Fraelich,
The Remains,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bauhaus,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Soul Sonic Force,
Aloha Tigers,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.