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 South Sudan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 the Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Faust,
Amon Düül II,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Young Rascals,
Wings,
Black Moon,
Babytalk,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Litter,
the Slits,
Rakim,
Bill Wells,
the Soft Cell,
Scratch Acid,
The J.B.'s,
The Cure,
Avey Tare,
Wasted Youth,
Unwound,
Mo-Dettes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Adolescents,
The Toasters,
Skarface,
Donny Hathaway,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kaleidoscope,
Lalo Schifrin,
Section 25,
Goldenarms,
Bad Manners,
Rod Modell,
The Grass Roots,
The Fortunes,
Maleditus Sound,
The Detroit Cobras,
Andrew Hill,
The Last Poets,
The Knickerbockers,
Dual Sessions,
Kurtis Blow,
The Monks,
Tim Buckley,
D'Angelo,
The Pretty Things,
48th St. Collective,
Negative Approach,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bill Near,
Marcia Griffiths,
John Coltrane,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Silicon Teens,
Smog,
The New Christs,
Glenn Branca,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Bronski Beat,
Buzzcocks,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.