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 Bhutan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 linndrum 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 Tears for Fears to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra Arkestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Lungfish,
Rites of Spring,
Leonard Cohen,
The Pretty Things,
The American Breed,
Neu!,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Magma,
Camouflage,
Roxette,
Gregory Isaacs,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lucky Dragons,
48th St. Collective,
Cecil Taylor,
Harry Pussy,
Jacques Brel,
Tears for Fears,
Faraquet,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Moss Icon,
Sonic Youth,
Donald Byrd,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ponytail,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Girls At Our Best!,
H. Thieme,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Easy Going,
Janne Schatter,
Gang Green,
Lyres,
Joy Division,
Rekid,
Marmalade,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ten City,
Public Enemy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eli Mardock,
Connie Case,
Nation of Ulysses,
Loose Ends,
Lakeside,
Chrome,
Donny Hathaway,
Aaron Thompson,
Los Fastidios,
World's Most,
The Motions,
Excepter,
China Crisis,
Simply Red,
Eric Copeland,
Newcleus,
The Divine Comedy,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.