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 Turkmenistan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 oboe 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 Subhumans to the grime 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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron 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 güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Steve Hackett,
Judy Mowatt,
Sällskapet,
Wally Richardson,
Glenn Branca,
The Red Krayola,
Terry Callier,
Andrew Hill,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Archie Shepp,
The Black Dice,
Boredoms,
Mad Mike,
Barclay James Harvest,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Letta Mbulu,
Aswad,
The Offenders,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Electric Prunes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Glambeats Corp.,
Average White Band,
Urselle,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Wolf Eyes,
Parry Music,
The Grass Roots,
Fela Kuti,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Selecter,
The Doors,
Zero Boys,
Jawbox,
Radiohead,
Technova,
Byron Stingily,
The Seeds,
Ohio Players,
Mandrill,
The Martian,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Moody Blues,
Sight & Sound,
Angry Samoans,
Excepter,
Freddie Wadling,
Yellowson,
Prince Buster,
Lindisfarne,
Neil Young,
Rites of Spring,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Khruangbin,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
H. Thieme,
Flipper,
Easy Going,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.