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 Moldova and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Copenhagen.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Stockholm Monsters to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All KRS-One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Todd Rundgren,
The Velvet Underground,
Trumans Water,
Black Flag,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ponytail,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Misunderstood,
Gang Starr,
Popol Vuh,
Heaven 17,
Visage,
Wally Richardson,
Shuggie Otis,
Harmonia,
Monolake,
Sonic Youth,
The Index,
Cybotron,
Gerry Rafferty,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Moleskins,
Eve St. Jones,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Symarip,
Bang On A Can,
Godley & Creme,
Rites of Spring,
The Offenders,
Joy Division,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Anakelly,
Dorothy Ashby,
Khruangbin,
Lou Christie,
The Techniques,
Blancmange,
Josef K,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Hot Snakes,
Suicide,
Brothers Johnson,
Sun City Girls,
The Black Dice,
Jerry's Kids,
Soul II Soul,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Angry Samoans,
Easy Going,
The Fuzztones,
The Human League,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bluetip,
Lightning Bolt,
Alton Ellis,
Bauhaus,
Q and Not U,
Black Bananas,
EPMD,
Girls At Our Best!,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.