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 Qatar and from New York.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 snare 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 Kerrie Biddell to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sound. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Easy Going 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flash Fearless record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rites of Spring,
8 Eyed Spy,
Graham Central Station,
The Last Poets,
Pylon,
Organ,
Pantytec,
John Lydon,
The Golliwogs,
The American Breed,
Urselle,
Marine Girls,
The Beau Brummels,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Divine Comedy,
The Star Department,
Excepter,
Robert Wyatt,
Andrew Hill,
Bill Wells,
James Chance & The Contortions,
K-Klass,
The Cowsills,
Scrapy,
Black Sheep,
Maleditus Sound,
Skarface,
Kevin Saunderson,
Freddie Wadling,
Lee Hazlewood,
Joy Division,
The Cure,
Fela Kuti,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Johnny Clarke,
JFA,
The Pop Group,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Terry Callier,
Sällskapet,
the Association,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Carl Craig,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Barbara Tucker,
The Black Dice,
Wolf Eyes,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Names,
Anakelly,
Janne Schatter,
Swell Maps,
Glenn Branca,
Khruangbin,
The Motions,
Half Japanese,
Peter and Kerry,
The Real Kids,
The Shadows of Knight,
Stiv Bators,
Y Pants,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.