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 Niger and from Cairo.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Porter Ricks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pylon,
The Remains,
The Golliwogs,
Steve Hackett,
the Soft Cell,
Charles Mingus,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Minutemen,
Country Teasers,
Young Marble Giants,
Bizarre Inc.,
the Fania All-Stars,
Blancmange,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bootsy Collins,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Birthday Party,
Gichy Dan,
The Slits,
Matthew Bourne,
The Mummies,
The Invisible,
Tears for Fears,
The Red Krayola,
Eddi Front,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Hot Snakes,
Faust,
X-102,
Masters at Work,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Associates,
Anakelly,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Sonics,
Silicon Teens,
Can,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Fela Kuti,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ice-T,
Ituana,
Cluster,
Oblivians,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Dirtbombs,
The Dead C,
The Durutti Column,
The Gladiators,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gang Starr,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Roy Ayers,
Theoretical Girls,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.