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 Kiribati and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 808 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 Traffic Nightmare to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Circle Jerks,
Eric Dolphy,
The New Christs,
Bad Manners,
Tomorrow,
John Coltrane,
Porter Ricks,
Isaac Hayes,
the Bar-Kays,
Bronski Beat,
The Angels of Light,
MC5,
Scrapy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Reagan Youth,
Alice Coltrane,
a-ha,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bizarre Inc.,
Malaria!,
The Residents,
The Cramps,
Black Flag,
Colin Newman,
Rod Modell,
Roxy Music,
These Immortal Souls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Absolute Body Control,
Tom Boy,
Average White Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Khruangbin,
Spoonie Gee,
The Grass Roots,
Das Ding,
The Techniques,
The Beau Brummels,
Derrick May,
K-Klass,
Cymande,
Simply Red,
David Axelrod,
Erasure,
Moebius,
Jawbox,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Buckinghams,
Agitation Free,
The Stooges,
Wasted Youth,
Electric Prunes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Blues Magoos,
Unrelated Segments,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Eric B and Rakim,
Soulsonic Force,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.