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 Mozambique and from Seoul.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 rhodes 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 48th St. Collective to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Siglo XX,
Eric Copeland,
John Holt,
Darondo,
Jimmy McGriff,
Icehouse,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Los Fastidios,
Technova,
The Victims,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Red Krayola,
Lightning Bolt,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Slick Rick,
the Sonics,
The Cure,
Henry Cow,
Motorama,
Faust,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Stetsasonic,
The Fire Engines,
Organ,
Todd Terry,
Avey Tare,
MDC,
Zapp,
Bobby Byrd,
Negative Approach,
Soulsonic Force,
Spandau Ballet,
Section 25,
Animal Collective,
Carl Craig,
Colin Newman,
Mission of Burma,
Electric Prunes,
Sparks,
World's Most,
Magma,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Litter,
Robert Görl,
The Mojo Men,
Gil Scott Heron,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Five Americans,
Kurtis Blow,
June Days,
The Cowsills,
Q and Not U,
Ronnie Foster,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Searchers,
Rufus Thomas,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.