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 Hungary and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Smoke to the disco 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 a-ha. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
a-ha,
The Litter,
The Remains,
Gang of Four,
The Victims,
The Doors,
Guru Guru,
David Axelrod,
the Fania All-Stars,
Albert Ayler,
the Swans,
Interpol,
Fela Kuti,
Simply Red,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marc Almond,
Sun City Girls,
Procol Harum,
Adolescents,
Harry Pussy,
The Mojo Men,
Piero Umiliani,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eurythmics,
The Sound,
Television,
Soulsonic Force,
Make Up,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Joyce Sims,
The Barracudas,
Audionom,
Chrome,
Slick Rick,
Anakelly,
The J.B.'s,
The Buckinghams,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Leonard Cohen,
Hashim,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Barrington Levy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Peter and Kerry,
The Move,
Janne Schatter,
Nirvana,
Magazine,
Youth Brigade,
Jandek,
Nik Kershaw,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Young Rascals,
Colin Newman,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pantaleimon,
Urselle,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Electric Prunes,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.