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 Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 synthesizer 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 Livin' Joy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Dolphy,
Smog,
Minutemen,
Talk Talk,
The Toasters,
Peter and Kerry,
Crash Course in Science,
Juan Atkins,
Jacob Miller,
Gabor Szabo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
ABBA,
Yellowson,
Mo-Dettes,
Hot Snakes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Liliput,
Gang of Four,
D'Angelo,
Suburban Knight,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Minnie Riperton,
Schoolly D,
Kool Moe Dee,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sonic Youth,
The Gladiators,
Hardrive,
Lou Reed,
Blake Baxter,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ronan,
John Cale,
Sun Ra,
The Gun Club,
Jeff Lynne,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eric Copeland,
Idris Muhammad,
Roxy Music,
H. Thieme,
Oneida,
Blancmange,
Grauzone,
Camouflage,
David Axelrod,
Ice-T,
the Soft Cell,
Deadbeat,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Colin Newman,
Pussy Galore,
Half Japanese,
Depeche Mode,
New Age Steppers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mantronix,
Pierre Henry,
Black Flag,
Bob Dylan,
ABC,
Alphaville,
The Martian,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.