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 Papua New Guinea and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 güiro 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 Country Teasers to the electroclash 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 The Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Bootsy Collins,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Pretty Things,
Joe Smooth,
Supertramp,
Little Man,
Tubeway Army,
Jeru the Damaja,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eden Ahbez,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Buckinghams,
The Alarm Clocks,
Josef K,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jeff Mills,
Johnny Clarke,
The Durutti Column,
The Doobie Brothers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Icehouse,
Harpers Bizarre,
Qualms,
Black Moon,
The Saints,
The Zeros,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Cure,
Rekid,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Stiv Bators,
World's Most,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
ABBA,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cymande,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Angels of Light,
Albert Ayler,
Boz Scaggs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Los Fastidios,
Skaos,
Desert Stars,
Brand Nubian,
Roxy Music,
Lungfish,
Sparks,
Ohio Players,
Lalann,
Aswad,
The Misunderstood,
Liliput,
Ituana,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Al Stewart,
Erasure,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.