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 Bhutan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mexico City.
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 arpeggiator 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Tommy Roe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Kerrie Biddell,
Q65,
Jacob Miller,
Can,
The Black Dice,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Raincoats,
The Cure,
Drive Like Jehu,
The American Breed,
Von Mondo,
Sight & Sound,
Eve St. Jones,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Moody Blues,
Ken Boothe,
Ituana,
Maleditus Sound,
R.M.O.,
June Days,
Public Image Ltd.,
Tubeway Army,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Babytalk,
Fad Gadget,
Trumans Water,
The Angels of Light,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rekid,
Man Eating Sloth,
Blossom Toes,
Magazine,
Monks,
the Association,
Heaven 17,
X-101,
Au Pairs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Liliput,
Gang of Four,
Urselle,
Skriet,
Gang Starr,
David Axelrod,
Joensuu 1685,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bob Dylan,
Cameo,
Warsaw,
a-ha,
Flipper,
Buzzcocks,
Bill Near,
Barrington Levy,
Amon Düül II,
Dawn Penn,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Sonics,
Gong,
Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell.
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.