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 Thailand and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cameo to the techno 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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Nick Fraelich,
The Cowsills,
Scion,
Sam Rivers,
F. McDonald,
The Gun Club,
Magazine,
The Martian,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Aswad,
Malaria!,
The Remains,
Bob Dylan,
Albert Ayler,
Swans,
Joe Finger,
Loose Ends,
Black Sheep,
The Dead C,
Bizarre Inc.,
Massinfluence,
Suicide,
Steve Hackett,
The Wake,
Rapeman,
Gang of Four,
Interpol,
The Zeros,
Joey Negro,
The Buckinghams,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Underground Resistance,
The Moody Blues,
The American Breed,
Television Personalities,
Reagan Youth,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bobby Womack,
Bush Tetras,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Schoolly D,
the Sonics,
Bobby Byrd,
Blancmange,
The Leaves,
Mars,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Grass Roots,
The J.B.'s,
Fela Kuti,
Moby Grape,
Spoonie Gee,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sugar Minott,
Barbara Tucker,
The Misunderstood,
Jacques Brel,
Rekid,
Jeff Lynne,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.