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 Micronesia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 snare 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 AZ to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
Panda Bear,
Gang of Four,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Motorama,
Oblivians,
Cameo,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Five Americans,
Carl Craig,
Pulsallama,
The Black Dice,
Moss Icon,
Pantytec,
Nation of Ulysses,
Television,
Lower 48,
David Bowie,
The Sound,
Mandrill,
Blossom Toes,
The Martian,
Dorothy Ashby,
Brass Construction,
Suicide,
Neil Young,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
James White and The Blacks,
Sandy B,
Joensuu 1685,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Boz Scaggs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Minutemen,
Big Daddy Kane,
Henry Cow,
The Monks,
Lyres,
The Misunderstood,
June of 44,
Masters at Work,
Brothers Johnson,
Toni Rubio,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fela Kuti,
The Barracudas,
Amon Düül II,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Parry Music,
Ohio Players,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Trojans,
Tears for Fears,
The Tremeloes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ten City,
ABBA,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Siglo XX,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Vladislav Delay,
Fatback Band,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.