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 Congo and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Columbus.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Buzzcocks 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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
The Golliwogs,
Brothers Johnson,
Vladislav Delay,
Mandrill,
Rekid,
Magazine,
Ultravox,
Little Man,
Sixth Finger,
Alice Coltrane,
Dorothy Ashby,
Crime,
The Associates,
Pagans,
Icehouse,
Oblivians,
Isaac Hayes,
Y Pants,
X-101,
Gang Gang Dance,
Das Ding,
Harmonia,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Wake,
Marvin Gaye,
The Birthday Party,
Minor Threat,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Scratch Acid,
The Leaves,
Derrick Morgan,
Jacques Brel,
Wasted Youth,
Sarah Menescal,
Sun Ra,
Robert Hood,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Average White Band,
Bill Near,
Smog,
Lalann,
Aural Exciters,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pulsallama,
Con Funk Shun,
Camberwell Now,
The Fortunes,
Terrestrial Tones,
Al Stewart,
Cybotron,
The Moody Blues,
Black Pus,
Aaron Thompson,
Echospace,
Barry Ungar,
The Names,
A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio.
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.