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 Norway and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Nas to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerri Chandler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Blake Baxter,
Tommy Roe,
Nick Fraelich,
Scratch Acid,
Thee Headcoats,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Busters,
Livin' Joy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Donald Byrd,
Iggy Pop,
Spandau Ballet,
Joey Negro,
The Stooges,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Popol Vuh,
The Shadows of Knight,
Delon & Dalcan,
Soft Machine,
Organ,
Joe Smooth,
Derrick May,
Ultimate Spinach,
One Last Wish,
X-101,
Moss Icon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Sonics,
Procol Harum,
New Age Steppers,
Sister Nancy,
The J.B.'s,
Isaac Hayes,
F. McDonald,
Agent Orange,
Hardrive,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Public Enemy,
The Tremeloes,
Pere Ubu,
The Cure,
Pantytec,
The Standells,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nik Kershaw,
The Angels of Light,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Barracudas,
Gong,
Matthew Halsall,
Silicon Teens,
Crispy Ambulance,
FM Einheit,
The Star Department,
Technova,
Black Flag,
B.T. Express,
The Last Poets,
Don Cherry,
Liliput,
Porter Ricks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.