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 Dominica and from Paris.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Swans to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Oblivians tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Bush Tetras,
Motorama,
Gang Green,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Severed Heads,
Nils Olav,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lee Hazlewood,
Amon Düül II,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Aloha Tigers,
Sun Ra,
The Red Krayola,
Grey Daturas,
Porter Ricks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sandy B,
Faust,
Derrick May,
The Cowsills,
John Coltrane,
Colin Newman,
The Pop Group,
Section 25,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bang On A Can,
Piero Umiliani,
The Shadows of Knight,
ABC,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Josef K,
Reuben Wilson,
The Mojo Men,
Monolake,
DJ Style,
Todd Terry,
CMW,
Cecil Taylor,
Wasted Youth,
Ten City,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Brothers Johnson,
Blancmange,
The Moleskins,
Black Sheep,
AZ,
Au Pairs,
ABBA,
Crash Course in Science,
Bobby Sherman,
Accadde A,
Sparks,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Invisible,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Von Mondo,
James White and The Blacks,
Alton Ellis,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.