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 Dominican Republic and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Alice Coltrane to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Bluetip,
F. McDonald,
Neil Young,
Ultravox,
The Motions,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rekid,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Public Enemy,
Amon Düül,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Tears for Fears,
the Soft Cell,
Marc Almond,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Germs,
Minnie Riperton,
Sun Ra,
R.M.O.,
Joy Division,
Dead Boys,
Parry Music,
The Index,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Michelle Simonal,
Gregory Isaacs,
Joensuu 1685,
Hashim,
Deakin,
Pussy Galore,
Surgeon,
Stetsasonic,
Nation of Ulysses,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Zeros,
Bauhaus,
Section 25,
Lalo Schifrin,
Harry Pussy,
Ronan,
The Red Krayola,
Bobby Womack,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sexual Harrassment,
Smog,
Black Pus,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Fear,
The Last Poets,
Von Mondo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Hoover,
Albert Ayler,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pole,
Gang of Four,
Barry Ungar,
T.S.O.L.,
B.T. Express,
Funky Four + One,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.