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 Solomon Islands and from Columbus.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Raincoats 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 Sun City Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
DNA,
T. Rex,
Roy Ayers,
Oblivians,
Magma,
The Sound,
The Red Krayola,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Slits,
In Retrospect,
Graham Central Station,
The Slits,
Bang On A Can,
Archie Shepp,
Duran Duran,
Thee Headcoats,
The Motions,
Make Up,
Prince Buster,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lightning Bolt,
Grauzone,
Alton Ellis,
Banda Bassotti,
Anthony Braxton,
Barrington Levy,
Sugar Minott,
Danielle Patucci,
Simply Red,
John Holt,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Gichy Dan,
Thompson Twins,
Camberwell Now,
Public Enemy,
John Foxx,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Carl Craig,
Harry Pussy,
Bill Wells,
Joe Finger,
Suburban Knight,
The Modern Lovers,
Soft Cell,
Warren Ellis,
Minnie Riperton,
Dave Gahan,
Eddi Front,
Lyres,
Swans,
Little Man,
Lindisfarne,
Joyce Sims,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lakeside,
Gabor Szabo,
Liliput,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dual Sessions,
Grandmaster Flash,
Yellowson,
Junior Murvin,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.