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 Cameroon and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 John Holt to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Urselle,
Bang On A Can,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Avey Tare,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Wyatt,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kurtis Blow,
Patti Smith,
Sex Pistols,
Radiopuhelimet,
Janne Schatter,
Rufus Thomas,
The Toasters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Barrington Levy,
Basic Channel,
Gabor Szabo,
Marvin Gaye,
The Victims,
The Smoke,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Ten City,
The Durutti Column,
Cheater Slicks,
The Mojo Men,
Erykah Badu,
Con Funk Shun,
Crispy Ambulance,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bauhaus,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bill Wells,
Interpol,
Nas,
Japan,
Arthur Verocai,
Lungfish,
Theoretical Girls,
the Germs,
Animal Collective,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
F. McDonald,
L. Decosne,
Barbara Tucker,
Icehouse,
Oblivians,
The Cramps,
Jeff Lynne,
Absolute Body Control,
Soulsonic Force,
Desert Stars,
Gang Starr,
Marshall Jefferson,
The United States of America,
Minutemen,
Fela Kuti,
Maurizio,
Tim Buckley,
Das Ding,
The Searchers,
Black Flag,
Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire, Cabaret Voltaire.
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.