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 Sri Lanka and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Severed Heads to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a In Retrospect record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Desert Stars,
Fluxion,
Gong,
Ludus,
Minny Pops,
Eurythmics,
Hashim,
Nirvana,
Quadrant,
T.S.O.L.,
Brothers Johnson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sexual Harrassment,
X-Ray Spex,
Alphaville,
F. McDonald,
Traffic Nightmare,
Panda Bear,
Juan Atkins,
Roxette,
Mantronix,
Television,
Dawn Penn,
Model 500,
Parry Music,
Depeche Mode,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Second Layer,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Erykah Badu,
Tommy Roe,
Shuggie Otis,
Flipper,
Leonard Cohen,
The Fire Engines,
Deakin,
EPMD,
Oblivians,
Camouflage,
Jerry's Kids,
The Offenders,
Cameo,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Doors,
Bobby Byrd,
Barry Ungar,
Marmalade,
Moss Icon,
Rhythm & Sound,
Faraquet,
H. Thieme,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wire,
Slick Rick,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Isaac Hayes,
The Fuzztones,
The Associates,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.