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 Vanuatu and from Bologna.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Sexual Harrassment to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Faust. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quantec 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Modern Lovers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Wolf Eyes,
Agent Orange,
Graham Central Station,
Sixth Finger,
Circle Jerks,
DJ Style,
Maurizio,
Joe Smooth,
Supertramp,
The Invisible,
Funkadelic,
Heaven 17,
Althea and Donna,
The Kinks,
Mad Mike,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Alice Coltrane,
The Count Five,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gang of Four,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
New Age Steppers,
Kerri Chandler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jandek,
Cymande,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Smoke,
Joy Division,
Wally Richardson,
The Selecter,
Bang On A Can,
The Raincoats,
Scott Walker,
The Offenders,
Sun City Girls,
Talk Talk,
Ken Boothe,
Bobby Sherman,
The Fall,
Pagans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Victims,
The Alarm Clocks,
T. Rex,
Colin Newman,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mandrill,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Babytalk,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dawn Penn,
Ossler,
Barbara Tucker,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Moebius,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.