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 Colombia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mumbai.
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 organ 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 The Real Kids to the funk 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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Technova,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Searchers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Connie Case,
Bill Wells,
Laurel Aitken,
Hashim,
Swell Maps,
T. Rex,
Flamin' Groovies,
Crooked Eye,
Black Bananas,
Marc Almond,
Ronnie Foster,
Gregory Isaacs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Cheater Slicks,
Rapeman,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Five Americans,
Sight & Sound,
Wire,
John Foxx,
The Modern Lovers,
Janne Schatter,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Liliput,
Tres Demented,
Tim Buckley,
Rotary Connection,
Pylon,
The Slackers,
X-101,
Curtis Mayfield,
Aswad,
Toni Rubio,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Chrome,
The Buckinghams,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Harry Pussy,
Susan Cadogan,
Eric Copeland,
Bauhaus,
The Move,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Radio Birdman,
Urselle,
Hardrive,
Drexciya,
Mr. Review,
Quando Quango,
Piero Umiliani,
Henry Cow,
The Saints,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Das Ding,
Suicide,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.