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 Peru and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marcia Griffiths to the disco 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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Fire Engines,
T.S.O.L.,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Wally Richardson,
Deakin,
Gichy Dan,
Scientists,
The Beau Brummels,
Lalo Schifrin,
Masters at Work,
The Dead C,
The Cowsills,
Kayak,
The Golliwogs,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The J.B.'s,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Alarm Clocks,
Danielle Patucci,
Marvin Gaye,
The Moleskins,
The Pop Group,
Matthew Bourne,
Siglo XX,
The Fuzztones,
Make Up,
ABC,
Skarface,
H. Thieme,
Theoretical Girls,
The Cure,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Duran Duran,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bauhaus,
Pere Ubu,
Colin Newman,
Black Sheep,
Steve Hackett,
Fugazi,
DJ Style,
Alison Limerick,
China Crisis,
Yellowson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Albert Ayler,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
These Immortal Souls,
the Germs,
Drexciya,
The Fugs,
Essential Logic,
Hashim,
EPMD,
Kurtis Blow,
The Blackbyrds,
The Skatalites,
Funky Four + One,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.