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 Algeria and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 marimba 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 The Real Kids to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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?
The Gun Club,
Cameo,
Slave,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Masters at Work,
Kevin Saunderson,
Clear Light,
Youth Brigade,
The Monks,
LL Cool J,
Eric Dolphy,
The Mummies,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gabor Szabo,
Talk Talk,
Television Personalities,
Erykah Badu,
Tubeway Army,
X-101,
Chrome,
Infiniti,
Flamin' Groovies,
Magma,
DJ Style,
Alison Limerick,
Funkadelic,
Leonard Cohen,
Mr. Review,
In Retrospect,
Aswad,
Q and Not U,
Section 25,
Suburban Knight,
Ice-T,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Moleskins,
Model 500,
Mantronix,
Marshall Jefferson,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Mojo Men,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bobby Byrd,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eve St. Jones,
John Coltrane,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roy Ayers,
cv313,
The Evens,
Joe Finger,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Yellowson,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Ronnie Foster,
The Busters,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.