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 Madagascar and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Brothers Johnson to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rapeman,
Johnny Osbourne,
Das Ding,
Boz Scaggs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Drexciya,
Tears for Fears,
Gastr Del Sol,
Animal Collective,
Subhumans,
Ohio Players,
Carl Craig,
Michelle Simonal,
The Dead C,
Hardrive,
Mark Hollis,
Ten City,
Mantronix,
Gang Starr,
John Foxx,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Vainqueur,
The Invisible,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Five Americans,
The Standells,
Godley & Creme,
Sugar Minott,
Reagan Youth,
Public Image Ltd.,
Quando Quango,
PIL,
New Order,
Aswad,
Idris Muhammad,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Yazoo,
Agitation Free,
Bang On A Can,
Jacques Brel,
Archie Shepp,
The Selecter,
Toni Rubio,
Pagans,
Scan 7,
Barry Ungar,
Livin' Joy,
Nick Fraelich,
Siglo XX,
Ituana,
Gang Green,
Juan Atkins,
The Litter,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Moss Icon,
Buzzcocks,
Ralphi Rosario,
The United States of America,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.