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 Haiti and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Radiopuhelimet to the grime 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 the Sonics. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Star Department,
Blossom Toes,
The Doors,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
David Bowie,
Stereo Dub,
Thee Headcoats,
Matthew Halsall,
Whodini,
kango's stein massive,
The Golliwogs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Swell Maps,
Brand Nubian,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Fortunes,
Interpol,
Dual Sessions,
Bill Wells,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Rites of Spring,
Sparks,
Jeff Mills,
The Five Americans,
Black Pus,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pierre Henry,
Skaos,
Black Flag,
The Gories,
Q65,
Deadbeat,
The Techniques,
Das Ding,
Duran Duran,
Alice Coltrane,
Heaven 17,
The Human League,
Alton Ellis,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Spandau Ballet,
Amazonics,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Trojans,
Porter Ricks,
Camouflage,
Television,
Cymande,
Nirvana,
Ice-T,
Bizarre Inc.,
Newcleus,
Man Eating Sloth,
Delta 5,
Boogie Down Productions,
Man Parrish,
The Red Krayola,
Marvin Gaye,
Flash Fearless,
Gregory Isaacs,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.