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 Tajikistan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 clarinet 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 Ultravox to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
The Motions,
Idris Muhammad,
Ossler,
Neil Young,
Ralphi Rosario,
Trumans Water,
The Last Poets,
Adolescents,
Liliput,
Toni Rubio,
Boredoms,
Donald Byrd,
Malaria!,
Soul II Soul,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Misunderstood,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Skatalites,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
X-102,
Joensuu 1685,
Max Romeo,
Magma,
Ituana,
Franke,
The Happenings,
Ultravox,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Yazoo,
Sam Rivers,
Japan,
Charles Mingus,
Maurizio,
Man Parrish,
Faust,
Crime,
H. Thieme,
The J.B.'s,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lyres,
Black Moon,
Crispy Ambulance,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Steve Hackett,
Sex Pistols,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eve St. Jones,
Lakeside,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Doors,
Ohio Players,
The Blues Magoos,
Crooked Eye,
The Birthday Party,
The Standells,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.