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 Pakistan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Toronto.
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 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Mo-Dettes. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama 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 a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Soulsonic Force,
The Sonics,
Ohio Players,
Stereo Dub,
Mad Mike,
Steve Hackett,
The Slackers,
Can,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Brick,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Stooges,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ituana,
Television,
AZ,
Franke,
Intrusion,
Barbara Tucker,
Gang Starr,
Joyce Sims,
Black Sheep,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Oblivians,
Stetsasonic,
Underground Resistance,
Sound Behaviour,
Lou Christie,
Skriet,
ABC,
Tim Buckley,
Bootsy Collins,
the Normal,
This Heat,
Skaos,
Wasted Youth,
The Barracudas,
John Holt,
New Age Steppers,
Siglo XX,
Sandy B,
Blake Baxter,
Ornette Coleman,
The Leaves,
Sonic Youth,
Godley & Creme,
Yazoo,
The Angels of Light,
Pet Shop Boys,
Minutemen,
The Black Dice,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Yaz,
Pylon,
Ice-T,
Dennis Brown,
The Residents,
Scrapy,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.