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 Macedonia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Music Machine to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Janne Schatter,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Martian,
Tommy Roe,
Angry Samoans,
Fugazi,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Grauzone,
Kevin Saunderson,
Qualms,
Deakin,
8 Eyed Spy,
Minor Threat,
Nik Kershaw,
Jawbox,
Matthew Bourne,
Harmonia,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Yaz,
Spandau Ballet,
Laurel Aitken,
Brand Nubian,
Dead Boys,
Eli Mardock,
Fear,
La Düsseldorf,
Lebanon Hanover,
Terry Callier,
Motorama,
The Neon Judgement,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cybotron,
Cal Tjader,
Oblivians,
Outsiders,
Kool Moe Dee,
DNA,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Pus,
the Fania All-Stars,
Easy Going,
Procol Harum,
R.M.O.,
A Certain Ratio,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Index,
Essential Logic,
Sister Nancy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Aloha Tigers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Japan,
Faust,
The Happenings,
Brothers Johnson,
The Gladiators,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Velvet Underground,
Pylon,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.