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 Antigua and from Woodstock.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pulsallama to the dance 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 UT. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
New Age Steppers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Simply Red,
Sister Nancy,
Pere Ubu,
Model 500,
David Bowie,
Bill Near,
Charles Mingus,
Marshall Jefferson,
JFA,
The Index,
Slick Rick,
John Lydon,
MDC,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Susan Cadogan,
Visage,
UT,
Gabor Szabo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Count Five,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Alice Coltrane,
Warsaw,
Qualms,
The Tremeloes,
ABC,
Porter Ricks,
Rotary Connection,
Livin' Joy,
Byron Stingily,
T. Rex,
the Germs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sarah Menescal,
Ohio Players,
Freddie Wadling,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kurtis Blow,
Robert Wyatt,
Scratch Acid,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pussy Galore,
The Wake,
The Cure,
Arcadia,
Surgeon,
Scott Walker,
Bronski Beat,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
X-101,
The Martian,
ABBA,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jacques Brel,
Bush Tetras,
The Grass Roots,
the Bar-Kays,
Echospace,
Flamin' Groovies,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.