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 Uzbekistan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Salvador.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Cymande to the grime 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes 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 Fuzztones,
Brass Construction,
Bill Wells,
Y Pants,
Delon & Dalcan,
Magazine,
the Normal,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sugar Minott,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
FM Einheit,
JFA,
Josef K,
Ornette Coleman,
Vainqueur,
Rod Modell,
Desert Stars,
Crispy Ambulance,
Main Source,
The Music Machine,
Youth Brigade,
a-ha,
Glenn Branca,
Stereo Dub,
Arab on Radar,
DJ Style,
Dorothy Ashby,
Yaz,
Lalo Schifrin,
Procol Harum,
MC5,
Roger Hodgson,
The Fall,
PIL,
The Saints,
The Doors,
Deadbeat,
Wally Richardson,
Janne Schatter,
The Standells,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The American Breed,
The Gun Club,
Thompson Twins,
Maurizio,
The Cure,
Bob Dylan,
Donald Byrd,
The Motions,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bad Manners,
Absolute Body Control,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Jacob Miller,
The Raincoats,
Echospace,
Sällskapet,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Interpol,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Germs,
Howard Jones,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.