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 South Sudan and from Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 spring reverb 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 Rhythm & Sound to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Niagra,
Scott Walker,
Gang Gang Dance,
Stiv Bators,
Monks,
Soulsonic Force,
The Moody Blues,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joy Division,
Fad Gadget,
Kayak,
The Slackers,
Yazoo,
Toni Rubio,
Johnny Clarke,
X-102,
Blossom Toes,
Skriet,
Smog,
Aswad,
Max Romeo,
Hashim,
Man Eating Sloth,
B.T. Express,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Godley & Creme,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Monks,
Bill Near,
Rufus Thomas,
Bootsy Collins,
the Human League,
The J.B.'s,
Ken Boothe,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
X-Ray Spex,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Robert Wyatt,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mission of Burma,
Arab on Radar,
Bang On A Can,
Popol Vuh,
Blake Baxter,
Scientists,
Jerry's Kids,
Letta Mbulu,
Jimmy McGriff,
Harmonia,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
This Heat,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Quantec,
Rotary Connection,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Drive Like Jehu,
Hoover,
Subhumans,
The Music Machine,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.