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 Saudi Arabia and from Winnipeg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pantaleimon to the rap 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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kenny Larkin,
the Normal,
Aswad,
Minnie Riperton,
DJ Sneak,
Qualms,
Josef K,
Radio Birdman,
Eden Ahbez,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dead Boys,
Hardrive,
Marmalade,
Ossler,
Delon & Dalcan,
Cybotron,
Byron Stingily,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mo-Dettes,
The Associates,
Pulsallama,
Maurizio,
Scrapy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Man Parrish,
Eric Copeland,
Angry Samoans,
The Slackers,
The Fire Engines,
The Beau Brummels,
Schoolly D,
Q and Not U,
KRS-One,
Half Japanese,
Pole,
Duran Duran,
The Leaves,
The Dirtbombs,
Skriet,
Albert Ayler,
Khruangbin,
Public Image Ltd.,
Frankie Knuckles,
Crispian St. Peters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mark Hollis,
Danielle Patucci,
Supertramp,
The Black Dice,
The Saints,
Theoretical Girls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Shuggie Otis,
A Certain Ratio,
Jandek,
Wally Richardson,
Ituana,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sällskapet,
Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan.
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.