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 Chad and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Jimmy McGriff to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gregory Isaacs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Associates record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
CMW,
Groovy Waters,
Electric Prunes,
The Remains,
The Black Dice,
Jesper Dahlback,
Black Bananas,
E-Dancer,
Thompson Twins,
Second Layer,
Avey Tare,
Lungfish,
Anakelly,
Blake Baxter,
Crooked Eye,
Deepchord,
June of 44,
The Smiths,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Mandrill,
Aural Exciters,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Last Poets,
Cymande,
48th St. Collective,
Eric Copeland,
the Bar-Kays,
Porter Ricks,
the Slits,
Harry Pussy,
John Holt,
Morten Harket,
The Divine Comedy,
Grauzone,
Matthew Bourne,
Ornette Coleman,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bobby Womack,
Donny Hathaway,
Japan,
The Move,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Camouflage,
Dawn Penn,
The Index,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Howard Jones,
Rites of Spring,
Steve Hackett,
Section 25,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sun City Girls,
a-ha,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Vainqueur,
ABBA,
The Knickerbockers,
The Durutti Column,
the Human League,
Graham Central Station,
Parry Music,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.