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 Greece and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blackbyrds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moleskins 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?
Gang Gang Dance,
F. McDonald,
Cybotron,
Jesper Dahlback,
Harmonia,
MDC,
Bill Wells,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jacob Miller,
Babytalk,
Albert Ayler,
The J.B.'s,
The Martian,
The Beau Brummels,
Fela Kuti,
The Fortunes,
Nico,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lightning Bolt,
Lalann,
Max Romeo,
Ralphi Rosario,
JFA,
The Buckinghams,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
David Bowie,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Echospace,
Kas Product,
The Cramps,
Thee Headcoats,
Angry Samoans,
Outsiders,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Moody Blues,
Johnny Clarke,
Groovy Waters,
Panda Bear,
Basic Channel,
Neil Young,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mantronix,
The Residents,
Suburban Knight,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Desert Stars,
Rapeman,
Rod Modell,
The Wake,
the Slits,
Sight & Sound,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Derrick Morgan,
The Toasters,
Unrelated Segments,
ABC,
Technova, Technova, Technova, Technova.
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.