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 Cuba and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the güiro 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 In Retrospect to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Amazonics,
Juan Atkins,
Susan Cadogan,
Marc Almond,
Niagra,
The Black Dice,
Lucky Dragons,
Television Personalities,
Ronnie Foster,
Dark Day,
Essential Logic,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Liliput,
Glambeats Corp.,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Names,
Deadbeat,
Cameo,
The Move,
Robert Hood,
The Happenings,
The Offenders,
Saccharine Trust,
Half Japanese,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sun Ra,
Iggy Pop,
Interpol,
Sister Nancy,
Aloha Tigers,
Malaria!,
Bang On A Can,
Circle Jerks,
The Modern Lovers,
Fat Boys,
Mission of Burma,
Pantaleimon,
Oblivians,
Tom Boy,
Pantytec,
Scion,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ice-T,
Barry Ungar,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Derrick May,
The Trojans,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sixth Finger,
the Soft Cell,
The Walker Brothers,
Aswad,
Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry.
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.