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 Peru and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the grunge 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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Motions 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Mandrill,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fire Engines,
Matthew Bourne,
the Sonics,
Icehouse,
Brick,
kango's stein massive,
Japan,
Amazonics,
Pierre Henry,
The Residents,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Warsaw,
Isaac Hayes,
Faraquet,
Soft Cell,
Dave Gahan,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Television Personalities,
Agitation Free,
Marine Girls,
The Last Poets,
The American Breed,
The Blues Magoos,
Excepter,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
John Foxx,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nick Fraelich,
Flamin' Groovies,
Funkadelic,
Albert Ayler,
Fatback Band,
Tubeway Army,
The Flesh Eaters,
Janne Schatter,
Darondo,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Mummies,
Pussy Galore,
Rotary Connection,
Lakeside,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sam Rivers,
Black Bananas,
R.M.O.,
Scan 7,
JFA,
The Seeds,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Joe Smooth,
Aaron Thompson,
Drexciya,
Mantronix,
Inner City,
James White and The Blacks,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.