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 Sierra Leone 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 harpsichord 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 Thee Headcoats to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
John Lydon,
The Count Five,
Heaven 17,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sun Ra,
Pagans,
Hot Snakes,
Brick,
David McCallum,
The Moody Blues,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Techniques,
These Immortal Souls,
X-101,
Symarip,
The Slackers,
Youth Brigade,
Wings,
Tom Boy,
DJ Sneak,
Zapp,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Selecter,
Masters at Work,
Sam Rivers,
Slave,
Godley & Creme,
The Skatalites,
The Detroit Cobras,
Franke,
Radio Birdman,
Model 500,
Saccharine Trust,
The Smiths,
Severed Heads,
EPMD,
Mandrill,
The Monochrome Set,
Rapeman,
F. McDonald,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Electric Prunes,
The Blues Magoos,
Talk Talk,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Boz Scaggs,
Amon Düül II,
Excepter,
Underground Resistance,
Skaos,
Whodini,
The Index,
T.S.O.L.,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Donny Hathaway,
Kevin Saunderson,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.