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 Kenya and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the crunk 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 Soulsonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Yellowson,
John Holt,
Soft Machine,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Man Eating Sloth,
Surgeon,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Alison Limerick,
The Fall,
A Certain Ratio,
Deepchord,
Slave,
The Names,
Archie Shepp,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Piero Umiliani,
Tim Buckley,
Radio Birdman,
Cymande,
Crispian St. Peters,
Parry Music,
Accadde A,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang Gang Dance,
Technova,
Mission of Burma,
Rufus Thomas,
Sparks,
Outsiders,
Nas,
a-ha,
Sun Ra,
Basic Channel,
La Düsseldorf,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Smiths,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eric Dolphy,
The Techniques,
The Leaves,
Can,
The United States of America,
The Invisible,
The Dave Clark Five,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Masters at Work,
Hoover,
Whodini,
Fear,
Angry Samoans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
ABBA,
Nik Kershaw,
Michelle Simonal,
Mark Hollis,
The Sound,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Joensuu 1685,
Marmalade,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.