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 Afghanistan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Nik Kershaw 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
New Order,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Morten Harket,
Pere Ubu,
David McCallum,
the Slits,
the Human League,
Howard Jones,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Modern Lovers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Nirvana,
Prince Buster,
Todd Terry,
Dual Sessions,
Andrew Hill,
Shuggie Otis,
Easy Going,
A Certain Ratio,
The Skatalites,
Mark Hollis,
the Swans,
Guru Guru,
Gang of Four,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jacques Brel,
Kaleidoscope,
Pagans,
Wings,
Sister Nancy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Raincoats,
Throbbing Gristle,
Michelle Simonal,
Eden Ahbez,
Neu!,
Marmalade,
Scratch Acid,
Lucky Dragons,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Harmonia,
Amon Düül II,
La Düsseldorf,
Heaven 17,
Big Daddy Kane,
Soft Machine,
Janne Schatter,
Roxette,
Faraquet,
Vladislav Delay,
DJ Sneak,
Radiohead,
Rufus Thomas,
Soul II Soul,
Jandek,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Agent Orange,
Funky Four + One,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rites of Spring,
John Foxx,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.