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 Kazakhstan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Minutemen to the grunge 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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Alton Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks 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 rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
Sonic Youth,
Harry Pussy,
the Association,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
48th St. Collective,
The Slackers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Yaz,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Offenders,
Eden Ahbez,
Cymande,
Soulsonic Force,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tropical Tobacco,
cv313,
Crime,
The Detroit Cobras,
Electric Prunes,
Circle Jerks,
Patti Smith,
The Angels of Light,
Man Eating Sloth,
Hot Snakes,
Das Ding,
Skaos,
The Toasters,
Delon & Dalcan,
Spandau Ballet,
The Smiths,
Sonny Sharrock,
Hoover,
Ten City,
Dual Sessions,
John Lydon,
Eddi Front,
Eve St. Jones,
Ice-T,
Marc Almond,
F. McDonald,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ralphi Rosario,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kaleidoscope,
The Star Department,
Archie Shepp,
Lower 48,
In Retrospect,
One Last Wish,
Funkadelic,
Sun Ra,
Kevin Saunderson,
Soul Sonic Force,
Talk Talk,
Nirvana,
The Remains,
Lalann,
The Index,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.