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 Kyrgyzstan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Warren Ellis to the electroclash 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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Lou Christie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Gabor Szabo,
Crime,
Connie Case,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mars,
Main Source,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Busters,
Liliput,
Gong,
Eurythmics,
Josef K,
Scan 7,
Fluxion,
Banda Bassotti,
Grauzone,
Wally Richardson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kas Product,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ultravox,
Khruangbin,
Magazine,
Tears for Fears,
Lou Christie,
The Mummies,
Simply Red,
Silicon Teens,
Derrick May,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bob Dylan,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Can,
The Five Americans,
Rekid,
Sex Pistols,
Peter & Gordon,
the Human League,
Oneida,
Inner City,
Lebanon Hanover,
Morten Harket,
Rufus Thomas,
JFA,
Lower 48,
Agitation Free,
Massinfluence,
Excepter,
Lyres,
The Buckinghams,
Animal Collective,
Lalo Schifrin,
Malaria!,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Mighty Diamonds,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Babytalk,
Sound Behaviour,
Sugar Minott,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.