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 Hungary and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ 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 Ultra Naté to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
the Sonics,
Suicide,
Amon Düül,
Skarface,
Pagans,
Mary Jane Girls,
Blancmange,
The Blues Magoos,
Arcadia,
Echospace,
The United States of America,
Subhumans,
Chris & Cosey,
Sister Nancy,
The Techniques,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Glenn Branca,
Ludus,
Albert Ayler,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Toasters,
Sugar Minott,
Andrew Hill,
Rhythm & Sound,
John Lydon,
Frankie Knuckles,
Aaron Thompson,
The Busters,
Harry Pussy,
Nick Fraelich,
Johnny Clarke,
Laurel Aitken,
Eurythmics,
Whodini,
AZ,
Second Layer,
Matthew Bourne,
The Red Krayola,
Nils Olav,
The Motions,
Althea and Donna,
Main Source,
In Retrospect,
Kerrie Biddell,
Public Enemy,
Skaos,
The Barracudas,
Alice Coltrane,
The Real Kids,
Pussy Galore,
Quadrant,
Joe Smooth,
Pantytec,
Panda Bear,
Juan Atkins,
Brick,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pere Ubu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Little Man,
Idris Muhammad,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.