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 Ivory Coast and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 mellotron 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 Kevin Saunderson to the grime 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Bar-Kays,
Scan 7,
Harry Pussy,
Ice-T,
Can,
The Last Poets,
Tres Demented,
Flamin' Groovies,
Terrestrial Tones,
Stetsasonic,
T. Rex,
Brand Nubian,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
China Crisis,
Dark Day,
Cal Tjader,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Althea and Donna,
Throbbing Gristle,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Saints,
Organ,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mo-Dettes,
Jacques Brel,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pagans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
D'Angelo,
Sam Rivers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Johnny Osbourne,
Smog,
Theoretical Girls,
Black Sheep,
Q65,
Vainqueur,
Depeche Mode,
The Move,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Michelle Simonal,
AZ,
June of 44,
The Cowsills,
F. McDonald,
Lalann,
The Fire Engines,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Big Daddy Kane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Aloha Tigers,
Deepchord,
Radio Birdman,
Roxy Music,
Infiniti,
Minnie Riperton,
Colin Newman,
The Real Kids,
Skriet,
Outsiders,
The Dave Clark Five,
Erykah Badu,
The Smiths,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.