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 Austria 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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Calgary.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Fela Kuti to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
The Slackers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fear,
R.M.O.,
Faraquet,
Freddie Wadling,
Monks,
Sun Ra,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nas,
L. Decosne,
The J.B.'s,
Essential Logic,
Moby Grape,
Visage,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Drive Like Jehu,
Scientists,
Scan 7,
New York Dolls,
Motorama,
Vainqueur,
Anthony Braxton,
F. McDonald,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Martian,
The Selecter,
Camouflage,
The Mummies,
Bob Dylan,
Index,
Danielle Patucci,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Cramps,
Pierre Henry,
Henry Cow,
Mission of Burma,
The Standells,
Moss Icon,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Move,
Yellowson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
In Retrospect,
FM Einheit,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gerry Rafferty,
Easy Going,
Section 25,
Saccharine Trust,
Rufus Thomas,
Stiv Bators,
Pantytec,
Blancmange,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Boz Scaggs,
This Heat,
Jeff Mills,
Interpol,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.