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 Congo and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 clarinet 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 Crispy Ambulance to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Association. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tim Buckley record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Laurel Aitken,
Banda Bassotti,
Davy DMX,
Make Up,
Crash Course in Science,
Absolute Body Control,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Crispy Ambulance,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
David Bowie,
E-Dancer,
Deepchord,
Kayak,
The Smiths,
the Human League,
Wings,
Scan 7,
The Residents,
The Evens,
Tubeway Army,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lakeside,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Monochrome Set,
Soft Machine,
James White and The Blacks,
Suicide,
Nick Fraelich,
The Durutti Column,
The Names,
Jawbox,
The Young Rascals,
Sarah Menescal,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rotary Connection,
Pharoah Sanders,
Echospace,
The Red Krayola,
The Wake,
The Fortunes,
Quadrant,
Joy Division,
Josef K,
New York Dolls,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rekid,
Amon Düül II,
These Immortal Souls,
Idris Muhammad,
Vladislav Delay,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lou Christie,
Lou Reed,
Funkadelic,
Marine Girls,
Das Ding,
Soulsonic Force,
The Associates,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.