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 South Africa and from Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the organ 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 The Blackbyrds to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scan 7,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ossler,
Buzzcocks,
The Remains,
Public Enemy,
Jacob Miller,
Scientists,
Sight & Sound,
Boz Scaggs,
Peter & Gordon,
The American Breed,
Stockholm Monsters,
Junior Murvin,
Ludus,
Fear,
Nick Fraelich,
The Busters,
The Offenders,
Lucky Dragons,
Amazonics,
Traffic Nightmare,
Saccharine Trust,
Cymande,
Popol Vuh,
Quando Quango,
Ronan,
Radiohead,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Vladislav Delay,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Gun Club,
Hoover,
Harpers Bizarre,
Charles Mingus,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dark Day,
Prince Buster,
Erasure,
Rakim,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Robert Hood,
Little Man,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cecil Taylor,
Nas,
World's Most,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Barracudas,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Mojo Men,
Porter Ricks,
Jeff Lynne,
Whodini,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kenny Larkin,
Main Source,
Monks,
Albert Ayler,
The Gladiators,
Minor Threat,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.