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 Bangladesh and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tokyo.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Nik Kershaw to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Loose Ends,
Anakelly,
Pole,
Subhumans,
Wire,
The Fortunes,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Black Pus,
Reagan Youth,
the Bar-Kays,
Saccharine Trust,
The Smiths,
Young Marble Giants,
The Birthday Party,
Scan 7,
Slick Rick,
Sun City Girls,
Brass Construction,
John Coltrane,
Nils Olav,
Slave,
La Düsseldorf,
Hashim,
Nation of Ulysses,
DNA,
Clear Light,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Arcadia,
Public Enemy,
Pulsallama,
Sex Pistols,
The Busters,
Lakeside,
Procol Harum,
The Happenings,
Talk Talk,
Siglo XX,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Chrome,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Minor Threat,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joe Finger,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Mojo Men,
Radiohead,
The Doors,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cecil Taylor,
David McCallum,
CMW,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Simply Red,
Pylon,
Chris & Cosey,
Harry Pussy,
Matthew Bourne,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lou Christie,
Man Parrish,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.