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 Comoros and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the dance 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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bang On A Can,
Mark Hollis,
Scion,
The Mummies,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Blues Magoos,
Jacques Brel,
Surgeon,
Lower 48,
Scrapy,
David McCallum,
Terry Callier,
Agitation Free,
Cameo,
Marc Almond,
Jeru the Damaja,
Terrestrial Tones,
Y Pants,
Sister Nancy,
Patti Smith,
New York Dolls,
Todd Terry,
Dark Day,
R.M.O.,
Monks,
Schoolly D,
Organ,
Eli Mardock,
The Durutti Column,
Rites of Spring,
Godley & Creme,
Icehouse,
UT,
Leonard Cohen,
Ralphi Rosario,
Minny Pops,
Reuben Wilson,
Chrome,
Cybotron,
Jeff Mills,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Zapp,
Magma,
The American Breed,
Gabor Szabo,
Rakim,
Monolake,
Liliput,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jerry's Kids,
Althea and Donna,
The Shadows of Knight,
T.S.O.L.,
the Swans,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ossler,
This Heat,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Deepchord,
Mission of Burma,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX.
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.