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 Mexico and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 marimba 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 Theoretical Girls to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Judy Mowatt,
Quantec,
Altered Images,
X-102,
Blancmange,
The Smiths,
The J.B.'s,
Tropical Tobacco,
Alphaville,
Cameo,
The Sonics,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gang Green,
Joe Finger,
The Cowsills,
Scott Walker,
Spoonie Gee,
Jeru the Damaja,
Grey Daturas,
Monks,
Lalo Schifrin,
Throbbing Gristle,
Oneida,
Don Cherry,
The Searchers,
AZ,
The Move,
Brick,
The Black Dice,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lalann,
Leonard Cohen,
Agitation Free,
Loose Ends,
T. Rex,
Sound Behaviour,
The Music Machine,
Pylon,
K-Klass,
Connie Case,
The Blues Magoos,
Camouflage,
Scrapy,
Funkadelic,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Massinfluence,
Lower 48,
Symarip,
Mr. Review,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Quadrant,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Tommy Roe,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ponytail,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sixth Finger,
Arthur Verocai,
Gastr Del Sol,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.