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 Tajikistan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 rhodes 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 The Motions to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mark Hollis,
Magazine,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bob Dylan,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Babytalk,
the Swans,
The Beau Brummels,
Vainqueur,
The Black Dice,
Shuggie Otis,
Sam Rivers,
Man Parrish,
Gang Starr,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mars,
Arab on Radar,
Harry Pussy,
Masters at Work,
Wasted Youth,
Theoretical Girls,
DJ Sneak,
John Coltrane,
Sällskapet,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lyres,
Charles Mingus,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gregory Isaacs,
Crash Course in Science,
The Cosmic Jokers,
La Düsseldorf,
Simply Red,
Aural Exciters,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kerri Chandler,
The Buckinghams,
Marcia Griffiths,
Quadrant,
Ponytail,
Con Funk Shun,
Stereo Dub,
Prince Buster,
Dark Day,
Infiniti,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Youth Brigade,
The Dave Clark Five,
Barbara Tucker,
Howard Jones,
Scrapy,
The Leaves,
Fela Kuti,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sparks,
Faust,
Pole,
Goldenarms,
The Zeros,
Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall, Matthew Halsall.
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.