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 Mauritania and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 snare 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 Pussy Galore to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Grauzone,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Motorama,
Slick Rick,
The Litter,
Depeche Mode,
The Dead C,
DJ Sneak,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fugazi,
Urselle,
The Associates,
Dave Gahan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ken Boothe,
The Raincoats,
Parry Music,
Minnie Riperton,
Derrick May,
Sam Rivers,
Joensuu 1685,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eddi Front,
Saccharine Trust,
The Human League,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Andrew Hill,
Moby Grape,
Lyres,
The Gladiators,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kool Moe Dee,
Aural Exciters,
Moss Icon,
Rosa Yemen,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tim Buckley,
Ronnie Foster,
The Durutti Column,
The Divine Comedy,
Sight & Sound,
Fad Gadget,
The Cramps,
Groovy Waters,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Electric Prunes,
Skaos,
Bobby Womack,
Tears for Fears,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Essential Logic,
Barbara Tucker,
Electric Prunes,
The Sonics,
Silicon Teens,
Lou Reed,
ABBA,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.