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 Barbados and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Salvador.
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 clarinet 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 Barbara Tucker to the punk 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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Pet Shop Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skriet 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Nation of Ulysses,
Connie Case,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Livin' Joy,
Animal Collective,
Derrick Morgan,
The Skatalites,
Fatback Band,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Delta 5,
the Fania All-Stars,
JFA,
the Soft Cell,
Q65,
The Blues Magoos,
One Last Wish,
The Fall,
Black Pus,
Throbbing Gristle,
These Immortal Souls,
Hot Snakes,
The Walker Brothers,
This Heat,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Index,
Girls At Our Best!,
Circle Jerks,
The Offenders,
Freddie Wadling,
Cecil Taylor,
New Order,
Kevin Saunderson,
Wings,
Jimmy McGriff,
Grey Daturas,
DNA,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Silicon Teens,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Minor Threat,
Harry Pussy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Hasil Adkins,
Talk Talk,
New York Dolls,
Joe Finger,
Chris Corsano,
The Names,
Stereo Dub,
Bang On A Can,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Joy Division,
The Misunderstood,
John Holt,
Joensuu 1685,
Angry Samoans,
Eurythmics,
Suburban Knight,
The Smoke,
Lalann,
Soul Sonic Force,
D'Angelo,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.