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 Trinidad & Tobago and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Stockholm.
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 Donald Fagen 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 Motorama to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Motorama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Piero Umiliani,
The Divine Comedy,
the Germs,
Barbara Tucker,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Joyce Sims,
Amazonics,
ABBA,
Rekid,
Harmonia,
Soul II Soul,
Nils Olav,
Davy DMX,
Aswad,
Lalann,
John Foxx,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Byron Stingily,
Wasted Youth,
The Smoke,
Ronan,
Shuggie Otis,
Shoche,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bob Dylan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Colin Newman,
Sun City Girls,
Half Japanese,
The Monks,
Neu!,
Pere Ubu,
Man Eating Sloth,
Babytalk,
David McCallum,
The Walker Brothers,
The Birthday Party,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lucky Dragons,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
Negative Approach,
Brand Nubian,
Altered Images,
Eli Mardock,
Gastr Del Sol,
Dead Boys,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lower 48,
Derrick May,
Quantec,
The United States of America,
Mars,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bronski Beat,
Scan 7,
Stockholm Monsters,
Moss Icon,
Scratch Acid,
The Vogues,
Reuben Wilson,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.