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 Dominican Republic and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba 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 Scott Walker to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
Massinfluence,
Yazoo,
Kurtis Blow,
Inner City,
The Motions,
Deakin,
Schoolly D,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Stooges,
The Fall,
The Offenders,
The Wake,
Jacques Brel,
Magazine,
Traffic Nightmare,
Robert Wyatt,
Ten City,
KRS-One,
Andrew Hill,
Television,
Mars,
The Skatalites,
Model 500,
Wally Richardson,
Adolescents,
Archie Shepp,
The Gap Band,
The Cramps,
Eric Copeland,
The Remains,
Joy Division,
Prince Buster,
Stockholm Monsters,
Dawn Penn,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Index,
Alice Coltrane,
Frankie Knuckles,
LL Cool J,
Gong,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dark Day,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Josef K,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Young Rascals,
Dave Gahan,
Iggy Pop,
Godley & Creme,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pulsallama,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David Axelrod,
Procol Harum,
Newcleus,
Dead Boys,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Max Romeo,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.