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 Ivory Coast and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Motions to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers 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?
Marshall Jefferson,
Soft Cell,
Radio Birdman,
Zapp,
Tom Boy,
Massinfluence,
Fluxion,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mad Mike,
Yazoo,
Simply Red,
Graham Central Station,
The Beau Brummels,
Mission of Burma,
The J.B.'s,
Procol Harum,
Donny Hathaway,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Saints,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Aaron Thompson,
The Residents,
Angry Samoans,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Gastr Del Sol,
Godley & Creme,
Crispy Ambulance,
Drive Like Jehu,
Schoolly D,
JFA,
Ponytail,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Young Marble Giants,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
the Normal,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Crooked Eye,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minor Threat,
The Knickerbockers,
Danielle Patucci,
Carl Craig,
K-Klass,
Skarface,
Electric Prunes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Funkadelic,
Marcia Griffiths,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bobby Byrd,
Colin Newman,
cv313,
The Young Rascals,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Aural Exciters,
Bill Near,
Jerry's Kids,
Smog,
Mr. Review,
The Techniques,
The Mojo Men,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.