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 Burkina and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 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 Happenings to the punk 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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
EPMD,
The Fall,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Alton Ellis,
Icehouse,
Banda Bassotti,
The Real Kids,
Camouflage,
Kerri Chandler,
The United States of America,
Aural Exciters,
Tres Demented,
This Heat,
Sugar Minott,
Roxy Music,
Stockholm Monsters,
Tom Boy,
Aswad,
The Smiths,
Shuggie Otis,
Monks,
Echospace,
Scientists,
Gregory Isaacs,
Boogie Down Productions,
Khruangbin,
Shoche,
Skarface,
Rites of Spring,
Stiv Bators,
The Leaves,
Crispian St. Peters,
Al Stewart,
John Cale,
the Bar-Kays,
Stereo Dub,
The Remains,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Adolescents,
The Trojans,
La Düsseldorf,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Sheep,
Underground Resistance,
Sarah Menescal,
Todd Terry,
Bang On A Can,
Quando Quango,
In Retrospect,
James White and The Blacks,
The Misunderstood,
Niagra,
a-ha,
Surgeon,
Moby Grape,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Soulsonic Force,
Cheater Slicks,
Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5.
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.