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 India and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Copenhagen.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 These Immortal Souls to the rap 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Rhythim Is Rhythim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin 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 clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
T.S.O.L.,
Stiv Bators,
June Days,
The Pop Group,
Fela Kuti,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fad Gadget,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Simply Red,
Suburban Knight,
Rakim,
Gang of Four,
The Dave Clark Five,
Arab on Radar,
Pylon,
Rites of Spring,
Monks,
Toni Rubio,
The Trojans,
Tubeway Army,
Darondo,
John Holt,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Red Krayola,
The Buckinghams,
The Happenings,
Mad Mike,
Quantec,
Vainqueur,
Tomorrow,
World's Most,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Dark Day,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Agitation Free,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Au Pairs,
Rapeman,
Todd Rundgren,
Organ,
Khruangbin,
Whodini,
Crispy Ambulance,
Livin' Joy,
Laurel Aitken,
Brand Nubian,
Black Bananas,
Eve St. Jones,
Youth Brigade,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Brothers Johnson,
Joey Negro,
Slick Rick,
Bobby Byrd,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ronan,
The Raincoats,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu.
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.