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 Macedonia and from Beijing.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Wasted Youth to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
Joyce Sims,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lucky Dragons,
Roxette,
X-Ray Spex,
Amazonics,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Saints,
The Pretty Things,
Jandek,
The United States of America,
Roy Ayers,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
KRS-One,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sonic Youth,
Trumans Water,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kurtis Blow,
Big Daddy Kane,
Throbbing Gristle,
Loose Ends,
Eric Dolphy,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Rapeman,
Fugazi,
Ronan,
Delon & Dalcan,
Alice Coltrane,
The Gap Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tubeway Army,
The Flesh Eaters,
Spandau Ballet,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Procol Harum,
The Black Dice,
David Bowie,
FM Einheit,
Sandy B,
Mission of Burma,
The Buckinghams,
The American Breed,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bang On A Can,
Fluxion,
The J.B.'s,
Model 500,
Q and Not U,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pierre Henry,
The Leaves,
the Bar-Kays,
Gerry Rafferty,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bootsy Collins,
Bauhaus,
Organ,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.