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 Lesotho and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pantaleimon to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Mo-Dettes,
Matthew Bourne,
Albert Ayler,
Audionom,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Guru Guru,
Das Ding,
Barbara Tucker,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Scott Walker,
Scan 7,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Black Dice,
Lower 48,
Anthony Braxton,
Rapeman,
Piero Umiliani,
Kayak,
Patti Smith,
Urselle,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Aswad,
Chris & Cosey,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gil Scott Heron,
Zapp,
The Kinks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Moss Icon,
Goldenarms,
Fatback Band,
Rites of Spring,
EPMD,
Skaos,
In Retrospect,
Ludus,
Yazoo,
Aural Exciters,
Porter Ricks,
Don Cherry,
The Modern Lovers,
Pantytec,
The American Breed,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Man Parrish,
The Sonics,
Intrusion,
Ituana,
Erasure,
Electric Prunes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Last Poets,
Massinfluence,
Masters at Work,
New Age Steppers,
Dennis Brown,
Brass Construction,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lalo Schifrin,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.