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 South Sudan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Flesh Eaters to the electroclash 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 The Leaves. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Tremeloes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
LL Cool J,
Piero Umiliani,
The Birthday Party,
Robert Görl,
Pole,
Anakelly,
The Blues Magoos,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sällskapet,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Eric Dolphy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ultra Naté,
Flamin' Groovies,
Slave,
Iggy Pop,
Marcia Griffiths,
Susan Cadogan,
Albert Ayler,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Panda Bear,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Max Romeo,
The Litter,
Schoolly D,
The Grass Roots,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Music Machine,
Patti Smith,
Sixth Finger,
Colin Newman,
U.S. Maple,
June of 44,
The Misunderstood,
Simply Red,
Flipper,
Negative Approach,
Dead Boys,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Knickerbockers,
Al Stewart,
FM Einheit,
Hasil Adkins,
Byron Stingily,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Metal Thangz,
Eddi Front,
Pierre Henry,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Throbbing Gristle,
Moby Grape,
The American Breed,
Rapeman,
The Barracudas,
Quadrant,
Kerri Chandler,
Tears for Fears,
The Alarm Clocks,
New Age Steppers,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.