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 East Timor and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 mellotron 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 Camouflage 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 DNA. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
Arcadia,
Byron Stingily,
The Dirtbombs,
Negative Approach,
Sun City Girls,
These Immortal Souls,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Mad Mike,
Popol Vuh,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Scrapy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Outsiders,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
F. McDonald,
New York Dolls,
the Slits,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Dead C,
Arthur Verocai,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Duran Duran,
Royal Trux,
Tomorrow,
Subhumans,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Brothers Johnson,
Kurtis Blow,
Fugazi,
Aaron Thompson,
Hardrive,
Pole,
Jimmy McGriff,
Unrelated Segments,
Ken Boothe,
The Standells,
Barbara Tucker,
The Flesh Eaters,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Bar-Kays,
DJ Style,
Soul Sonic Force,
Siglo XX,
The Skatalites,
Dennis Brown,
Television,
Glambeats Corp.,
In Retrospect,
Blossom Toes,
The Black Dice,
The Walker Brothers,
Connie Case,
Minnie Riperton,
The Fugs,
Marvin Gaye,
Blancmange,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Radiohead,
Flash Fearless,
The Gladiators,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.