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 Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 spring reverb 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 Harmonia to the jazz 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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lizzy Mercier Descloux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Sonny Sharrock,
Chrome,
Jawbox,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lightning Bolt,
Mo-Dettes,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Dawn Penn,
Simply Red,
Dead Boys,
Curtis Mayfield,
Spandau Ballet,
Davy DMX,
Marc Almond,
Newcleus,
Scrapy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
DJ Sneak,
Camouflage,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rakim,
Delon & Dalcan,
Youth Brigade,
Kerri Chandler,
Delta 5,
Yellowson,
The Wake,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Monochrome Set,
Sixth Finger,
Ossler,
The Grass Roots,
Television Personalities,
Bobby Byrd,
The Cramps,
Peter & Gordon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Zapp,
Schoolly D,
Sandy B,
Wolf Eyes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Selecter,
Con Funk Shun,
Stereo Dub,
Warren Ellis,
The Real Kids,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Blues Magoos,
the Swans,
Robert Görl,
Average White Band,
The Pop Group,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.