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 Guatemala and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 clarinet 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 Lou Reed & John Cale to the grime 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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Gladiators,
These Immortal Souls,
Ultra Naté,
Soft Cell,
Hashim,
The Monks,
Cheater Slicks,
Electric Prunes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sällskapet,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
L. Decosne,
Lyres,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Brand Nubian,
Kool Moe Dee,
Man Parrish,
Brothers Johnson,
Gabor Szabo,
The Techniques,
Rekid,
Soft Machine,
Ultravox,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Fall,
The Cure,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Slits,
Suicide,
Black Bananas,
The J.B.'s,
Zapp,
Bobby Womack,
The Fire Engines,
Eve St. Jones,
Gang of Four,
Blancmange,
The Busters,
Terry Callier,
Grey Daturas,
Monolake,
The Neon Judgement,
Sixth Finger,
Lower 48,
Darondo,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Swans,
Lou Reed,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mission of Burma,
Big Daddy Kane,
Tomorrow,
Minnie Riperton,
Little Man,
Spoonie Gee,
Funkadelic,
Peter & Gordon,
The Moleskins,
John Foxx,
Fad Gadget,
Barbara Tucker,
Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy.
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.