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 Jordan and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 linndrum 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 Warren Ellis to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Moleskins,
Fela Kuti,
Barry Ungar,
Toni Rubio,
Urselle,
ABC,
Brick,
The Wake,
Arthur Verocai,
The Grass Roots,
Hashim,
Blake Baxter,
Sixth Finger,
Minutemen,
Ohio Players,
Hot Snakes,
The Real Kids,
Robert Görl,
Funky Four + One,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Camberwell Now,
Alphaville,
Livin' Joy,
The Five Americans,
The Cowsills,
Model 500,
The Stooges,
The Index,
Brand Nubian,
Bobby Sherman,
The Knickerbockers,
Junior Murvin,
Babytalk,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Grandmaster Flash,
Oneida,
Soft Machine,
Magazine,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Beau Brummels,
Jeru the Damaja,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roy Ayers,
Gang Starr,
Stereo Dub,
Mantronix,
Cluster,
Massinfluence,
Bobby Byrd,
The Mummies,
Brass Construction,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Sonics,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Names,
Eric B and Rakim,
Traffic Nightmare,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Human League,
Sandy B,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.