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 Vietnam and from Delhi.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Crispy Ambulance to the punk 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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
The Standells,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lucky Dragons,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Monks,
Fugazi,
Brick,
Scratch Acid,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Normal,
The Misunderstood,
Deakin,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fluxion,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Electric Prunes,
John Holt,
Johnny Osbourne,
Josef K,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Stiv Bators,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tubeway Army,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Selecter,
Outsiders,
Minor Threat,
Jerry's Kids,
The Mummies,
Rites of Spring,
Guru Guru,
Mad Mike,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gastr Del Sol,
Robert Wyatt,
Dead Boys,
Electric Prunes,
The Leaves,
Tomorrow,
Silicon Teens,
Sexual Harrassment,
Minutemen,
The Stooges,
Das Ding,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
New York Dolls,
China Crisis,
The Index,
The Golliwogs,
The American Breed,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Matthew Bourne,
The Detroit Cobras,
Parry Music,
The Offenders,
MC5,
Suicide,
Pylon,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scientists,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.