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 Seychelles and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 harpsichord 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 Sandy B to the punk 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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Excepter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
the Bar-Kays,
The J.B.'s,
Roger Hodgson,
Sandy B,
Goldenarms,
Blossom Toes,
Ossler,
Pylon,
Boz Scaggs,
The Wake,
Sugar Minott,
Harmonia,
Loose Ends,
Fear,
The Sound,
Khruangbin,
Organ,
8 Eyed Spy,
Harry Pussy,
Icehouse,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Arab on Radar,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soulsonic Force,
Stetsasonic,
Soft Cell,
This Heat,
Von Mondo,
The Knickerbockers,
The Raincoats,
Malaria!,
Derrick Morgan,
Kevin Saunderson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Junior Murvin,
The Tremeloes,
Reagan Youth,
Peter and Kerry,
Derrick May,
Avey Tare,
Pantaleimon,
Bluetip,
PIL,
Isaac Hayes,
New Age Steppers,
La Düsseldorf,
Bang On A Can,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Music Machine,
Audionom,
Soul II Soul,
Colin Newman,
Bill Near,
The Mummies,
Ludus,
Mantronix,
Los Fastidios,
The Alarm Clocks,
New Order,
Jesper Dahlback,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.