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 Mexico and from Columbus.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Crispian St. Peters to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Suicide,
The Last Poets,
Delta 5,
The American Breed,
Bobby Womack,
The Mojo Men,
The Music Machine,
Inner City,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
B.T. Express,
Patti Smith,
Guru Guru,
Magazine,
Lightning Bolt,
The Pretty Things,
Interpol,
Skarface,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Suburban Knight,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pussy Galore,
Barbara Tucker,
Japan,
The Golliwogs,
Warren Ellis,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pet Shop Boys,
Roxy Music,
Mr. Review,
Bobby Sherman,
La Düsseldorf,
Masters at Work,
The Seeds,
Scrapy,
Derrick May,
The Motions,
The Slackers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Donny Hathaway,
Bluetip,
Organ,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Man Parrish,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Laurel Aitken,
Lindisfarne,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ohio Players,
Jawbox,
Little Man,
Gang Green,
Throbbing Gristle,
Average White Band,
Ice-T,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.