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 Macedonia and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 chamberlin 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 The Names to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Von Mondo,
Metal Thangz,
MDC,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Dead C,
The Last Poets,
The Standells,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cramps,
Motorama,
The Vogues,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Grass Roots,
Boredoms,
Boz Scaggs,
Saccharine Trust,
Tears for Fears,
Basic Channel,
Bill Near,
Dorothy Ashby,
Subhumans,
Rekid,
Aswad,
Dark Day,
Heaven 17,
Skarface,
Anthony Braxton,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Golliwogs,
Icehouse,
The Durutti Column,
Das Ding,
Scratch Acid,
Visage,
Avey Tare,
Cluster,
Porter Ricks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Joy Division,
The Pretty Things,
Nation of Ulysses,
Eddi Front,
Spandau Ballet,
The Fuzztones,
John Coltrane,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Q65,
Big Daddy Kane,
Absolute Body Control,
Erykah Badu,
Masters at Work,
Con Funk Shun,
Susan Cadogan,
Yazoo,
Underground Resistance,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gang of Four,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Whodini,
Mission of Burma,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.