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 Kyrgyzstan and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Connie Case to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
The Selecter,
John Coltrane,
Arthur Verocai,
Dennis Brown,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Mummies,
The Monks,
The Knickerbockers,
Banda Bassotti,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Neil Young,
Ornette Coleman,
Interpol,
The Busters,
Tres Demented,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Josef K,
H. Thieme,
Bootsy Collins,
Hasil Adkins,
Black Bananas,
Judy Mowatt,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Flamin' Groovies,
Guru Guru,
Duran Duran,
Skaos,
The Seeds,
Gil Scott Heron,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Invisible,
Soul II Soul,
Sun City Girls,
Jeff Mills,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Bill Near,
Sixth Finger,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Pretty Things,
Eric Dolphy,
Joe Smooth,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
David McCallum,
Robert Hood,
Easy Going,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Aural Exciters,
Spandau Ballet,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Babytalk,
Spoonie Gee,
Marc Almond,
Desert Stars,
Absolute Body Control,
Amon Düül II,
Nas,
Scratch Acid,
The Grass Roots,
X-Ray Spex,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.