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 Estonia and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Throbbing Gristle to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 K-Klass. All the underground hits.
All Michelle Simonal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echo & the Bunnymen,
B.T. Express,
Bush Tetras,
Barry Ungar,
The Pretty Things,
Crispian St. Peters,
Chrome,
Mr. Review,
Index,
Big Daddy Kane,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Country Teasers,
48th St. Collective,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Mummies,
Marine Girls,
Pagans,
The Count Five,
The Remains,
the Bar-Kays,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Robert Wyatt,
The Gap Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
Guru Guru,
Joey Negro,
Rosa Yemen,
Pole,
Urselle,
Bobby Sherman,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Moebius,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ten City,
Erasure,
Colin Newman,
Oneida,
The Blackbyrds,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Black Sheep,
Gastr Del Sol,
Barclay James Harvest,
Erykah Badu,
Godley & Creme,
JFA,
Neil Young,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sunsets and Hearts,
F. McDonald,
Scrapy,
Brand Nubian,
Sister Nancy,
Ronan,
EPMD,
Prince Buster,
UT,
Jeff Mills,
Unrelated Segments,
Eli Mardock,
Public Image Ltd.,
Siglo XX,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.