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 Switzerland and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The American Breed to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Marine Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fad Gadget record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rufus Thomas,
Supertramp,
Smog,
Cal Tjader,
Unwound,
Lower 48,
Desert Stars,
Terry Callier,
Qualms,
Crispy Ambulance,
Wings,
Fluxion,
Bob Dylan,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Smoke,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rakim,
Theoretical Girls,
Danielle Patucci,
Severed Heads,
Eden Ahbez,
Loose Ends,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Glenn Branca,
Ken Boothe,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Easy Going,
Shoche,
China Crisis,
Bronski Beat,
Bobby Byrd,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gong,
Youth Brigade,
The Gories,
The Fortunes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kerri Chandler,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Searchers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Skriet,
Spoonie Gee,
Bobby Hutcherson,
La Düsseldorf,
the Bar-Kays,
Kas Product,
Marcia Griffiths,
Agent Orange,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Audionom,
Thee Headcoats,
Gang Starr,
The Sound,
Joyce Sims,
Television,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Isaac Hayes,
The Smiths,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane.
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.