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 Liechtenstein and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 chamberlin 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 Pole to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Aswad. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Blancmange,
The Monks,
Fat Boys,
ABBA,
Alphaville,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Excepter,
Man Parrish,
Crime,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gastr Del Sol,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
the Normal,
Davy DMX,
The Pretty Things,
Piero Umiliani,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kevin Saunderson,
Prince Buster,
Eurythmics,
The Young Rascals,
Deepchord,
Scratch Acid,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crooked Eye,
Agent Orange,
Sound Behaviour,
Jesper Dahlback,
Max Romeo,
Con Funk Shun,
T. Rex,
Cheater Slicks,
Camouflage,
Pulsallama,
John Foxx,
Eric Dolphy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mars,
Byron Stingily,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barrington Levy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bang On A Can,
a-ha,
The Leaves,
Spoonie Gee,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Nico,
Black Flag,
Royal Trux,
Mo-Dettes,
R.M.O.,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pussy Galore,
The Move,
Judy Mowatt,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.