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 Congo and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 marimba 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 Das Ding to the grunge 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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
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,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Davy DMX,
Ten City,
Vladislav Delay,
Ralphi Rosario,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Trumans Water,
Bob Dylan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Star Department,
The Tremeloes,
Sex Pistols,
The Shadows of Knight,
Minnie Riperton,
Cal Tjader,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Scratch Acid,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Godley & Creme,
One Last Wish,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Walker Brothers,
T. Rex,
kango's stein massive,
Tres Demented,
Index,
Bronski Beat,
Arthur Verocai,
Monks,
Pierre Henry,
The Techniques,
The Move,
Ultimate Spinach,
Mission of Burma,
Audionom,
Barclay James Harvest,
Scott Walker,
The Doors,
Pagans,
The Real Kids,
Ossler,
Amon Düül,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Smog,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Searchers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Interpol,
DJ Sneak,
Janne Schatter,
Kurtis Blow,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Fire Engines,
Glambeats Corp.,
The J.B.'s,
Procol Harum,
Hot Snakes,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.