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 Uzbekistan and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lagos.
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 chamberlin 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 Scientists 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 David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Depeche Mode,
Fear,
Brand Nubian,
Rod Modell,
Khruangbin,
June Days,
Faraquet,
Tim Buckley,
Harry Pussy,
Warren Ellis,
Reuben Wilson,
Matthew Bourne,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lungfish,
Black Moon,
the Slits,
Deakin,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Graham Central Station,
The Toasters,
Wolf Eyes,
Crime,
Television,
D'Angelo,
Smog,
K-Klass,
Ken Boothe,
Little Man,
Idris Muhammad,
The Electric Prunes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Shuggie Otis,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ice-T,
Flash Fearless,
Half Japanese,
Anakelly,
Black Flag,
Jawbox,
Barry Ungar,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Dark Day,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pantaleimon,
Bang On A Can,
The Remains,
Gang Starr,
Alphaville,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The American Breed,
Saccharine Trust,
Darondo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Crispy Ambulance,
World's Most,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lucky Dragons,
The Mojo Men,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Star Department,
Tears for Fears,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.