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 Samoa and from London.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the techno 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Dual Sessions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Parry Music,
The Modern Lovers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sun City Girls,
Robert Görl,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gang of Four,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Porter Ricks,
The Red Krayola,
The United States of America,
Andrew Hill,
Animal Collective,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Organ,
Marvin Gaye,
Mo-Dettes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Tremeloes,
the Association,
10cc,
Cecil Taylor,
David Bowie,
Popol Vuh,
Surgeon,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Doors,
The Count Five,
The Searchers,
June of 44,
Derrick Morgan,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Rekid,
Country Joe & The Fish,
DJ Style,
One Last Wish,
Rakim,
Sexual Harrassment,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bill Wells,
a-ha,
Kayak,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Smiths,
Saccharine Trust,
Hot Snakes,
Nick Fraelich,
Peter & Gordon,
Minutemen,
The Wake,
The Fortunes,
Scott Walker,
K-Klass,
Sonny Sharrock,
Spoonie Gee,
The Mojo Men,
Joe Smooth,
Eurythmics,
The Moody Blues,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.