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 Mauritania and from Madrid.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 organ 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 Neil Young to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Intrusion,
Make Up,
Funky Four + One,
Kerri Chandler,
Harry Pussy,
U.S. Maple,
Bang On A Can,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Donald Byrd,
Yaz,
Sparks,
Main Source,
The Tremeloes,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
X-Ray Spex,
Model 500,
The Smiths,
The Electric Prunes,
The Raincoats,
Electric Prunes,
Bill Near,
Matthew Bourne,
Connie Case,
Iggy Pop,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Erykah Badu,
Lou Christie,
Swans,
Theoretical Girls,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Juan Atkins,
Q and Not U,
Bauhaus,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Knickerbockers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Guru Guru,
The Martian,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Toni Rubio,
Sandy B,
Reagan Youth,
The Last Poets,
Jeff Lynne,
Letta Mbulu,
Sarah Menescal,
Agitation Free,
June of 44,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Prince Buster,
Faust,
Steve Hackett,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jeff Mills,
Television,
Motorama,
Grey Daturas,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.