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 Poland and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 London and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Holger Czukay 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 Cowsills to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
The Count Five,
The Black Dice,
the Swans,
Ralphi Rosario,
Crispian St. Peters,
Grey Daturas,
Aaron Thompson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jandek,
The Dead C,
Deadbeat,
Jeff Mills,
Joy Division,
The Pretty Things,
The Toasters,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rekid,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bobby Byrd,
Crime,
New Age Steppers,
The Electric Prunes,
John Holt,
DNA,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Shadows of Knight,
Symarip,
Blossom Toes,
Stereo Dub,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roger Hodgson,
Livin' Joy,
DJ Style,
Pere Ubu,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Silicon Teens,
T. Rex,
Sonny Sharrock,
Laurel Aitken,
Icehouse,
Sun City Girls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Smog,
Rufus Thomas,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ice-T,
Quantec,
Peter & Gordon,
Mad Mike,
The Stooges,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Cymande,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tropical Tobacco,
Joey Negro,
Skarface,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nik Kershaw,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.