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 Ireland and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Goldenarms to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Marc Almond,
Crooked Eye,
Fatback Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
Zero Boys,
Ituana,
Gabor Szabo,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rotary Connection,
Todd Terry,
Roxette,
Dual Sessions,
Nick Fraelich,
Crispian St. Peters,
John Foxx,
Nils Olav,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Television Personalities,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Cale,
the Association,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Severed Heads,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Byron Stingily,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Toni Rubio,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
David Axelrod,
The Skatalites,
Harry Pussy,
The American Breed,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Tremeloes,
Althea and Donna,
Khruangbin,
Joyce Sims,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Prince Buster,
Minutemen,
Amazonics,
Stiv Bators,
The Grass Roots,
Arthur Verocai,
The Fortunes,
the Soft Cell,
The Invisible,
Donald Byrd,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Parry Music,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Flag,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
John Holt,
DJ Sneak,
Theoretical Girls,
David Bowie,
Supertramp,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.