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 St Lucia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar 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 The Angels of Light to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DeepChord presents Echospace 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
Lindisfarne,
Goldenarms,
The Star Department,
The Happenings,
Freddie Wadling,
Minor Threat,
Lungfish,
Guru Guru,
The Martian,
Loose Ends,
Arcadia,
Stockholm Monsters,
John Lydon,
The Durutti Column,
Vladislav Delay,
Lalann,
Agent Orange,
Laurel Aitken,
Susan Cadogan,
New Order,
the Bar-Kays,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Dual Sessions,
10cc,
The Remains,
Eurythmics,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sexual Harrassment,
Aswad,
Radio Birdman,
Absolute Body Control,
E-Dancer,
Crispian St. Peters,
The New Christs,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Fire Engines,
Excepter,
Connie Case,
The Gun Club,
Jacob Miller,
Harry Pussy,
R.M.O.,
Organ,
Khruangbin,
Hasil Adkins,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Hoover,
Inner City,
Patti Smith,
Crooked Eye,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lou Reed,
Unrelated Segments,
Michelle Simonal,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Fuzztones,
Kerrie Biddell,
8 Eyed Spy,
Q65,
Pantytec,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.