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 Jordan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 harpsichord 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 Crash Course in Science to the disco 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 Dual Sessions. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cluster,
Kenny Larkin,
Alice Coltrane,
Pole,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sparks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Hasil Adkins,
The Music Machine,
Lebanon Hanover,
U.S. Maple,
Patti Smith,
Quando Quango,
Fad Gadget,
Anakelly,
B.T. Express,
Newcleus,
Sister Nancy,
Niagra,
Barbara Tucker,
The Beau Brummels,
Man Parrish,
The Skatalites,
Nico,
Colin Newman,
La Düsseldorf,
Lindisfarne,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Fania All-Stars,
Drive Like Jehu,
Charles Mingus,
Silicon Teens,
The Tremeloes,
D'Angelo,
The Dead C,
Wolf Eyes,
Todd Terry,
Pierre Henry,
Sun City Girls,
MC5,
Shoche,
L. Decosne,
Soul II Soul,
The Moody Blues,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pagans,
Fatback Band,
Moebius,
Dorothy Ashby,
Flash Fearless,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Glenn Branca,
Bill Wells,
Public Image Ltd.,
ABC,
Eve St. Jones,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.