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 Greece and from Tehran.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe 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 Freddie Wadling to the grime 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 E-Dancer. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Bar-Kays record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Evens,
The Mojo Men,
Easy Going,
Skriet,
Ralphi Rosario,
Loose Ends,
Lindisfarne,
Sound Behaviour,
the Slits,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Urselle,
Arthur Verocai,
L. Decosne,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Techniques,
Nico,
The Count Five,
The Buckinghams,
Rekid,
The Saints,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Girls At Our Best!,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Music Machine,
Howard Jones,
The Detroit Cobras,
Junior Murvin,
Das Ding,
Ossler,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Slick Rick,
Severed Heads,
Subhumans,
Alphaville,
Reagan Youth,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Golliwogs,
Avey Tare,
Flamin' Groovies,
These Immortal Souls,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lungfish,
Brand Nubian,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
John Cale,
The Smoke,
The Doobie Brothers,
Cheater Slicks,
Icehouse,
EPMD,
Bobbi Humphrey,
LL Cool J,
Joyce Sims,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
June of 44,
ABC,
Main Source,
Depeche Mode,
Visage,
DJ Sneak,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.