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 Samoa and from Mumbai.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Theoretical Girls to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
The Seeds,
Goldenarms,
Bill Near,
Robert Hood,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lower 48,
Saccharine Trust,
Minutemen,
Cal Tjader,
Bobby Sherman,
Spoonie Gee,
Fad Gadget,
Man Eating Sloth,
Drexciya,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lyres,
Cybotron,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Cure,
Rakim,
Index,
Kurtis Blow,
Radiopuhelimet,
Adolescents,
Don Cherry,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bob Dylan,
John Lydon,
cv313,
Angry Samoans,
The Star Department,
DJ Style,
Eric Copeland,
Juan Atkins,
Grandmaster Flash,
Prince Buster,
The Gories,
Masters at Work,
Nick Fraelich,
The Fuzztones,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Vainqueur,
The Flesh Eaters,
Aswad,
Siglo XX,
Todd Terry,
The Dirtbombs,
8 Eyed Spy,
Basic Channel,
The Mummies,
The Mojo Men,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Black Moon,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Joe Smooth,
the Normal,
Suburban Knight,
Magma,
Monks,
China Crisis,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.