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 Korea South and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Electric Prunes to the electroclash 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oblivians record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bill Near,
Arcadia,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Unwound,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sun Ra,
Colin Newman,
Mo-Dettes,
Sixth Finger,
Archie Shepp,
The Tremeloes,
Juan Atkins,
The Skatalites,
Swans,
Inner City,
Parry Music,
Quadrant,
Trumans Water,
Boz Scaggs,
Banda Bassotti,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Offenders,
Supertramp,
Animal Collective,
The Cure,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Roxette,
Grey Daturas,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Searchers,
Interpol,
Newcleus,
Lalann,
Panda Bear,
L. Decosne,
Quando Quango,
Von Mondo,
Isaac Hayes,
The Dirtbombs,
R.M.O.,
One Last Wish,
The Flesh Eaters,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Evens,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ronan,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Masters at Work,
Ken Boothe,
Soulsonic Force,
Amazonics,
June Days,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brand Nubian,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Franke,
Eddi Front,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Brick,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.