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 Micronesia and from Bologna.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 808 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 Monks to the grunge 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Lalann,
Scion,
Fad Gadget,
The Remains,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Toasters,
Danielle Patucci,
the Normal,
These Immortal Souls,
The Gories,
Nik Kershaw,
Supertramp,
Judy Mowatt,
Deepchord,
Lalo Schifrin,
Underground Resistance,
Amon Düül,
Kas Product,
Severed Heads,
Susan Cadogan,
Y Pants,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cybotron,
Minny Pops,
The Martian,
Metal Thangz,
The Dead C,
Mr. Review,
Harry Pussy,
John Coltrane,
Alison Limerick,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Hot Snakes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Kinks,
Audionom,
Delta 5,
Peter and Kerry,
The Evens,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Young Rascals,
Eddi Front,
Juan Atkins,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The United States of America,
The Associates,
The Pretty Things,
Dawn Penn,
Moebius,
The Doors,
Freddie Wadling,
Joe Smooth,
John Lydon,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Fuzztones,
Fatback Band,
Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U.
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.