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 Kosovo and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Columbus.
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 Holger Czukay 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 Gregory Isaacs to the disco 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Raincoats,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Anthony Braxton,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Barracudas,
Laurel Aitken,
Unrelated Segments,
Aural Exciters,
Outsiders,
Black Sheep,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kaleidoscope,
Barrington Levy,
The New Christs,
Sam Rivers,
Jacob Miller,
Shoche,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rekid,
Japan,
Amon Düül,
The J.B.'s,
Yaz,
Y Pants,
Letta Mbulu,
Nik Kershaw,
China Crisis,
Peter & Gordon,
the Germs,
Porter Ricks,
Alison Limerick,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pulsallama,
Fluxion,
Ronnie Foster,
Panda Bear,
The Seeds,
Jimmy McGriff,
Heaven 17,
Soul II Soul,
Gil Scott Heron,
Masters at Work,
the Human League,
Roy Ayers,
Bronski Beat,
Tres Demented,
Shuggie Otis,
Bobby Womack,
UT,
The Real Kids,
The Angels of Light,
The Cure,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bob Dylan,
Tropical Tobacco,
Oblivians,
The Tremeloes,
New Age Steppers,
The Buckinghams,
Wings,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Hasil Adkins,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.