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 Namibia and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Cowsills to the rock 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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Mummies,
Model 500,
Motorama,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rod Modell,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Slackers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Sonics,
Jawbox,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cal Tjader,
The Remains,
The Wake,
Bang On A Can,
48th St. Collective,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Von Mondo,
The Golliwogs,
Blossom Toes,
Sixth Finger,
Erasure,
The Selecter,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marine Girls,
Suburban Knight,
Deakin,
Duran Duran,
Mad Mike,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Mars,
Harry Pussy,
Soft Machine,
The Stooges,
the Germs,
OOIOO,
Sun Ra,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brick,
Bobby Womack,
Lindisfarne,
Funky Four + One,
Junior Murvin,
Crime,
Moss Icon,
Vainqueur,
Eurythmics,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kerri Chandler,
Al Stewart,
These Immortal Souls,
The Blackbyrds,
Gichy Dan,
Minutemen,
Essential Logic, Essential Logic, Essential Logic, Essential Logic.
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.